


IN YOUR HANDS

by Nadeshico



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Regency, Angst, Character Death, Drama, F/M, Fanfiction, Love, Murder, Regency, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-02-26 20:12:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 35
Words: 262,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18724132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nadeshico/pseuds/Nadeshico
Summary: A/U. After a bad business, Bulma's life becomes an endless misfortune that will lead her to fall at the feet of the man most disliked by the noble class to which they belong. Vegeta will find delight in her humiliation, however both will be involved in a crime that will unite them more than they imagine. Will they be executed or will they be able to get rid of their crime?A translation of "Entre sus manos"





	1. Chapter I

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't be too harsh on me. This is my first time writing in english. Be kind and enjoy the reading!

* * *

**IN YOUR HANDS**

* * *

Chapter   
I

* * *

 

  
**H** er dress was as tight as the corset that immobilized her back, so straight that her breasts protruded asphyxiated out above her pompous white lace neckline, made of the finest cotton and silk her father's money could buy. The young woman observed her gleaming reflection in the mirror as she wiggled coquettishly, beating the long loops that one of her escorts had fixed for her. She smiled at herself and then at the group of four young ladies who accompanied her. She contemplate her broad smiles, ecstatic since, of course, she looked unparalleled. There was no stray of hair or loose thread in the whole picture of perfection that she was. And in spite of the exaggerated control she had to have over her breathing, it had no waste if she looked at her reflection one more time.  
"Sure you will return with more than one suitor, miss," said one and the rest laughed with a certain timidity, quite proper to such a bold comment.  
“They're going to fight for a dance with me,” Bulma answered while contemplating herself and, although the group of young ladies laughed again, she was not kidding. Her confident and calm tone confused them, though they laughed almost mechanically.  
She inspected hier appearance with special meticulousness. Her escorts sprinkled her nose and delicately sprayed her with her most expensive perfume. They adjusted Bulma's corset for the last time and when her waist could not give a millimeter more, they fluffed her opulent pink skirt.  
"It is beautiful, miss," said one, fascinated by the fine fabrics of the sumptuous dress and her luxurious embroidery in golden thread, so bright that it seemed made of pure gold.  
"I know," she answered and there was no doubt left in her voice.  
Between the four of them they helped her get into her car, after helping her mother in her elegant blue dress.

Bulma heard so many compliments that at a certain point she stopped hearing them to simply answer an automaton-like thanks. Little did she noticed her distracted mother, who was watching the young people from the carriage windows, gathering at the entrance of the mansion. She let out sighs with a romantic air that Bulma did not notice because she was too focused on every tiny aspect of herself. She checked the make-up in a pocket mirror once more before getting off the carriage and squeezed her cleavage.  
She had been so thoroughly educated for that day, that she felt as her future was before her. Very likely she would find her future husband there, the man who would take care of her and her future children for the rest of her life. As it should be, as was expected of her. And since she was a fine lady of society, with a dowry larger than the entire fortune of many of those present, she must be very selective about the men she would allow them to share their time with tonight.

As he got out of the carriage, an attentive young man of tall stature received their coats, while he escorted them diligently to the entrance of the sumptuous mansion of Count Headmund, an old friend of his father's. It was the social event of the year, and Bulma had prepared several months in advance. She had recently turned sixteen and was ready to start her own family. Of course, with the luxurious life she is used to, she would not settle for any suitor, she was firmly determined to find the best one of them all.  
"What a beautiful dress," said Segovia, a classmate.” You did not buy it here, right?”  
"My father brought it to me on a trip abroad," she said, moving her skirt lightly. The young blonde with impeccable curls picked up a forced smile.  
“How lucky of you…”  
But, in spite of her obvious displeasure, she remained with her for the rest of the evening. Around Bulma, as in all the social gatherings that she attended, a large group of young women of her age gathered. The majority in the same situation as her, in search of a suitable husband.

"His father owns a lot of land in the west of the country", Tali said in her ear, pointing with extreme dissimulation to a young man who drank wine from the other side of the room. Bulma imagined him at her side, holding hands. Would they look good together? Their children would be attractive, without a doubt.  
“He is Iva, his father is the Central Bank manager and they say he will soon retire and leave his son in his place.”  
"He has very crooked teeth...” Bulma murmured when they exchanged glances and the gentleman smiled at her.  
A handsome young man offered her a glass of white wine, which she accepted out of courtesy since she was not entirely sure if she could ingest something with her corset so brutally tight. She wet her lips with the rim of her glass and continued talking with the rest of the ladies, who one by one left the circle to dance with cordial gentlemen.  
“Aren’t you going to dance with anyone?” Asked another girl with black hair.  
“I'm waiting for the right one, Milk. And you?”

Bulma had already rejected a little less than a dozen of those present. She was acting extremely picky, to the point where no one seemed to reach the imaginary standard she had set. However, Milk seemed less pretentious than her and there she was, looking from one side to the other with a frown.  
“The one who I waited for did not come.”  
She immediately noticed the fervent flush of her cheeks when she speaked of him, but she did not say anything. Without realizing, after rejecting one gallant gentlemen after another who approached her, the glass of wine she had in her hands was completely finished. After handing the glass to a waiter, she noticed the flushed cheeks on her face and the suffocating heat that ran through her. That dress was so tight and pompous that it was frankly surprising that it had not already fainted because of the lack of air.  
When she could no longer bear it, she apologized to her friends and retired. She passed the orchestra playing a quiet melody and walked with slight difficulty to the balcony door. When she left, she noticed that several hours had passed since her arrival. She leaned against the granite railing and released the little air her lungs had managed to breathe. She looked at the orange and pink sunset and then wiped her pearly forehead.  
“Damn dress...”  
“Hump...” she heard behind her.  
Startled, Bulma turned to find a gentleman reclining on the wall next to the door through which she had emerged. She blushed even more than she already was and covered her lips with embarrassment.  
It was not at all proper to hear a woman of her age uttering insults, much less at a social event of such caliber. That could even damage her reputation. She looked with horror at the gentleman who, after looking at her for a brief moment, turned away.  
His arms were crossed, but even in that position Bulma could see the delicate prints on the buttons of her jacket.  
He wore a dark blue shawl, almost black, and underneath an unblemished white shirt.  
"Excuse me, sir…" she hurried quite embarrassed.  
She bowed slightly to the gentleman and waited a moment for an answer she never received.  
How dare he ignore her? On the contrary, he should be ecstatic to be in her presence, especially when she had rejected all the men who had approached her. How could he not take advantage of such an opportunity to court her?  
Bulma straightened on her exorbitantly expensive shoes and crossed her arms. The man, after perceiving the uncomfortable silence between the two of them, turned once more to the obfuscated face of the young woman in front of him.  
“Will not say anything?” She reproached.  
“And what am I supposed to say? Badly educated brat.”  
The faint pink of her cheeks turned vermilion in an instant. Bulma had never been insulted in that way and was shocked by what had just happened.  
“Badly educated?” She questioned and approached him in leaps and bounds. “Do you have any idea who you're talking to? I have received the educaion of finest tutors and they have felt honored to teach me, even many of them have found their services useless with me as I turned out to be much smarter than any other woman they have ever met.”

“Maybe they forgot to teach you manners, or perhaps they considered it useless to teach them since you seem not to have learned them at all.”  
“How dare you?!”  
The man suddenly smiled on his side. Bulma found in that gesture a kind of challenge, a strange incentive to encourage her to continue with that contest. However, she looked at him with some irritation and grabbed the skirt of her dress to withdraw.  
“Pretentious fool.”  
She went out the door again, the orchestra continued playing a beautiful melody and many of those present danced in the middle of the room. She quickly returned to the group of women that awaited for her and, trying to disguise her anger, tried to sneak into the conversation that was taking place between them.  
“I heard that Pea is very interested in him, but she is a fool if she thinks he will settle down with her.”  
“They say he dishonored several girls.”  
“I do not blame them...” spired one, causing another to reprimand her.  
“He must be a frequent brothels costumer, he has a fearsome aspect.”  
“He has a lot of money, he has taken over the business of his family for several years. After his father died"  
“Girls..." Bulma whispered, "who are you talking about?"  
"Him," Milk replied, pointing to the gentleman with whom she had met on the balcony.  
He had left shortly after her, and was on the other side of the ball room, adjusting the cufflinks of his jacket. Next to him was another, smaller and also very well dressed. The taller one looked at him with annoyance, while the little one seemed to explain something to him. Both looked disturbed.  
“Who are they?” She ask.  
“Vegeta and Tarble Ouji. They are not usually seen in these events.”  
“It seems that Mr. Vegeta is being forced by his relatives to look for a wife, as is expected, since he has no one to inherit his fortune except his brother and distant relatives.”  
“He's one of the richest in the country... after your family, Bulma, of course.”  
Suddenly she felt her mother's hands holding her by the shoulders. She approached anxiously to her ear and, in what she thought was a whisper, said:  
“Bulma, that's the gentleman who I had been waiting for you. He is very handsome, do not you think?”  
“Mom! Do you not ear what they all say? His reputation?”  
“Ah, give it Bulma a try, I'm sure she'll invite you to dance.”  
“He arrived!” One of the many girls shouted in a squeak.

The group's attention was then diverted to a new applicant who had just entered. So elegant was his black suit that he managed to hear a generalized sigh from the ladies present. Bulma found his dark look slightly seductive. He had a very calm smile and walked as if the earth did not exist. With such naturalness that dazzled. He looked directly at her and Bulma started, coming out of her reverie. He smiled at her and immediately Bulma made a gesture of greeting him. The gentelmen soon approached her and extended his hand to hold hers. Bulma swallowed and delicately handed him her wrist. She felt the warm touch of his lips against her snowy skin, and after kissing her he did not let go but instead he pulled her close to his chest.  
"I would die for the pleasure of being the first to dance with you, Miss Bulma," he said in the most gallant tone she had ever heard.  
Black was one of the most desirable men in the city. Bulma had known him for several years, since he had a couple of businesses with her father and they shared a cordial relationship. She had always felt an interest on his part, yet he seemed to be waiting for her to reach an appropriate age to make his first advance.  
He did not wait for her response. He couldn’t take a no for an answer. And, taking her by the hand, he led her to the center of the floor. Suddenly Bulma felt that all the eyes in the room were on her. Black's hand spread delicately over the arch of her back and held it with gentle firmness. Without realizing it, he was making all the presents stunned with his polished and impeccable dance. Black seemed to embody absolute perfection. By the time the music stopped, a wave of applause was heard around him, and the gentelmen bowed to her once more and kissed her hand, as if it were something sacred. Bulma found his presence somewhat overwhelming, it always had been. In each look, in each cocky smile. He also seemed a somewhat eccentric character. However, her vision of Black did not coincide in the least with the reputation she knew of him. He was as respected as he was wanted.  
Bulma returned to the group, next to her mother and listened to the comments of her friends with a little pride.  
“He sure will try to curt you.”  
“Keep him interested.”  
“They are an ideal couple.”  
So ideal that deep down Bulma was not entirely convinced.  
After a couple of other songs, she turned her gaze to Vegeta, who remained frowning and apparently did not even pay attention to his younger brother, who did not stop talking to him.  
"You do not have to get married right now," he insisted. “You already made the effort to come here, we both did it. If you prefer, I do it first and then you.”  
“I do not need you to teach me how to do it, you imbecile.”  
“You are not doing anything. You've been standing here for an hour, and you still have not greeted any lady. This is embarrassing.”  
“Ley me remind you that we are here because of your constant complaints.”  
“I would not complain if you complied with your obligations.”  
“When I die, you inherit everything. Don’t you want to take care of my obligations?”  
“I don’t love the idea.”  
“You just love the idea of annoying me.”  
“No more than you do...”  
After another unbearably long silence, Tarble continued a little more reluctantly.  
“Just one. A piece with anyone. I will not ask you more than that.”  
“Okay, one piece and I'm off.”  
“Perfect, as you wish.”  
She had rejected two more invitations, when Black seemed ready to invite her back to dance floor with him. Then one of Bulma's favorite pieces began to sound. She had always liked that song and although she had tried to master the violin, she was not particularly talented in it. However, she enjoyed listening to it, it was sublime and romantic, but at the same time a little sad and melancholyc. So focused was she on the work of the orchestra that she did not notice the gentleman standing next to her.  
He cleared his throat, hoping to catch her attention without the need to talk to her. He did not know her name either, he hadn’t asked in that brief inopportune moment they shared.  
Bulma looked at Vegeta, firm to her right, as he held out his gloved hand in front of her.  
Even if she did not admit it, Bulma was surprised to see him there. She watched the gesture and then turned to his black eyes. She could see a faint trace of blush on his cheeks, but she could not tell why was he so blushed.  
While her song was still playing, she made the gesture with her hand to spread it over his gloved one, but when Vegeta was about to take her to dance, Bulma withdrew her hand and crossed her arms. She lifted her chin and turned her face to the other side, just as he had done on the balcony.  
“Don't think I'll dance with a man as rude as you are.”  
Vegeta raised his eye brows in astonishment.  
If he thought it with sincerity, perhaps he had chosen her because she was the only person, besides his brother, with whom he had crossed a few words. But there was so much more than that, he didn’t wanted to admit it. It was quite stupid and childlish.  
He closed his hand tightly and turned without saying all the insults he wanted. He had already complied, technically, with Tarble's terms. Being rejected was not among his plans but now he could leave without having to dance with anyone else.  
Bulma saw him turn around, past Tarble who, almost as dazed as he, retreated following in his footsteps. She glanced sideways until he was lost in the crowd.  
Of course she would not regret it, she was a fine lady who deserved the best companies and would not be dishonored by an unscrupulous man as he seemed to be.  
“Don’t you think you were a bit rude to that boy?” Asked her mother in a worried tone.  
“Mom, you heard his reputation. I can not afford to be related to that type of man.”  
Two nights after that day, Black and his father celebrated the closing of a business that would bring prosperity to both of them. He supposed that's why he was taking some time to extend an invitation to spend time with him. It was what you would expect from a gentleman as correct as Black was.  
The days passed and Bulma continued with her routine, attended her tea meetings with her friends from high society and received, as usual, the private classes of her tutors.

It was not until a month later that her misery began to take place.  
“The teacher did not come," she said to her mother, who was putting on makeup on her bedroom dresser. “How discourteous, we could have rescheduled the class.”  
“Oh, dear ..." she began in a nervous tone. “Your teacher will not come for a while. Do not worry, it's temporary. Until the situation normalizes.”  
“What situation?”  
“Well, we hoped not to have to tell you, but your father's last business has not gone as well as we expected. And your father had invested a lot of our capital in it.”  
“You mean the business that closed with Marquis Black.”  
“Yes…”  
The young woman tried to hide her concern, but with the passing of a few days she began to notice more cuts in her family's budget. They went from thirty-five employees to only four. The mansion began to look careless, especially because they had to dismiss the gardener and his mother could not take care of such opulent rose garden by herself.  
Little by little Bulma saw how the belongings in her home disappeared one by one, from the most expensive to the most common.  
After three months, she was living in a gigantic mansion almost empty and without servitude. Her mother had sold her finest jewelry, including her wedding dress. Bulma had delivered with pain that pink dress with gold embroidery that her father had brought her from France, as a gift for her sixteenth birthday.  
The worst came when her elderly father became ill and medical expenses consumed what little they had left, including Bulma's dowry. By the time that money was over, so was Briefs life.  
So much was the suffering of his family that his frail mother, a widow, became seriously ill shortly after to accompany her long-suffering husband.  
Desolated, Bulma settled the debts of her family by delivering the mansion to the bank.  
It had completely vanished, her whole life and her future in the blink of an eye. Now she was an orphan, and all the capital she had lay hidden in the pocket of one of her simplest dresses.  
Sadly, she had to continue living.  
However, she was determined to recover the ostentatious life she had just lost. So many men had pretended her, and they could not have disappeared. Surely she would find asylum in one of his mansions. She would have to marry one but that would be enough to return to the comforts she was used to. It did not seem like such a great sacrifice.  
When she touched the first door she was received with some discomfort. They left her waiting for almost thirty minutes in the hall of the mansion and when she was finally greeted she was welcomed by the mother of the young Emuel, and she was informed that he had traveled on business together with her father, but she kindly offered to deliver a message of his part on his return.  
"No ... don’t bother him with this nonsense, thank you," Bulma replied.  
Suddenly, as never before had happened to her, she felt like an outcast.  
In the second mansion they received her in the same manner, as if she had an infectious disease and they were about to catch it. Bulma left the in same way.  
Perhaps if she would not be received by those who once courted her, she would be received by her many friends. Of course, they would not reject her in her time of greatest need.  
However, she was surprised that some did not even open the door.  
Resigned, sitting in a fountain with all her belongings in a purse, she analyzed her options. She could ask for refuge in a monastery, there she would be fed, and she would have a roof over her head every night, but the idea of becoming devout to God and refusing the contact of a man for the rest of her life was not very attractive to her.  
Withdrawing from the idea of the monastery, there was no choice but to look for work. She had had as many maids in life as days in a year, had seen them work and therefore believed that she knew, more or less, what their tasks consisted of.  
She did not know how to cook but she could clean if I wanted to.  
She decisively touched the sixth door of the day, it was getting late and he was afraid she would not find a place to sleep when the night came.  
When the door opened, she found a woman who looked about forty years old, extremely thin and with a worn face. Her cheekbones were incipient but the blue bags under her eyes were more striking. She looked her up and down, and then faced her with an almost grim look.

“What do you want?” She asked and crossed her arms.  
She had never listened the people who worked for her to go so rudely on a guest. Although on reflection, she had not been invited either.  
“Excuse me, miss…” she began, releasing each word with special rigor. “I have no where to spend the night, I... I was wondering if the master of this house needed someone to clean up here, I promise to make an effort in my tasks.” Everything she said, she said it leaning, looking at the tips of her shoes. Then, not hearing an answer, he stood up again and looked at the woman who analyzed her words.  
“It could be...” she said.  
Bulma could not help but smile with hope when she heard those words. Little did she knew how far she was from getting rid of her terrible misfortune.


	2. Chapter II

* * *

**IN YOUR HANDS**

* * *

 

Chapter

II

* * *

 

Mrs. Piachet had told her where she would spend the night, what her chores would be and what her lunch schedule would be, but Bulma was shocked to hear the miserable pay she would receive for her services. She made counts when was finally alone in her tiny bedroom. She counted the months and made a mental list of what she would spend on her needs. Sadly, every time she returned to do the math; her financial estate always ended in negative numbers.

It wouldn’t be as easy as she had thought. Maybe she should look for a job in an inn or a more ostentatious mansion. Then she remembered that she knew each and every one of its owners and her pride was bruised every time she imagined herself cleaning their bathrooms or laying their beds. How could she? Most of these gentlemen had been rejected by her more than once, even had helped to spread the most denigrating rumors she had heard and had mocked them on her superiority on countless occasions.

She wasn’t going to be discouraged by that miserable pay, she would have to cut her budget as many times as necessary. Maybe if she stood out in her tasks would get her salary raised and eventually everything would return to normal. And perhaps, one lucky day, a gallant gentleman would enter through the door and, when he saw her, he would lose himself in her beauty and take her out of there, mounted on a white steed. And they would have children, recover all her fortune and then, when everything was solved... she would take it upon herself to make Black pay the debt he owed her family.

Of course, she hadn’t forgotten. How could she?

She hadn’t had time to mourn the painful loss of her parents, much less the loss of their entire fortune. She had only had time to survive, to think how to get past the hunger of the day and sleep to wake up the next day and continue fighting.

But, once there, lying on that old wet bed that grinded with every slight movement of her body, she took the time she most needed to shed tears that her body had been struggling with.

She could never forgive everything that this nefarious man had done to her beautiful family.

When the sun came out, her back hurt like never before. The mattress springs jutted almost to the point of splitting the fabric in the middle. Bulma couldn’t close her eyes all night, and she could have sworn she had heard a rat squeaking, but she didn’t have the courage to get up and find out.

That day she would finally meet the owner of the house, Mrs. Piachet had told her little about him. The man owned a small shop in the Center, a shoe store that had belonged to his father before him. He was married, but Mrs. Harris had fallen ill a short time ago and spent much of her time in bed.

Coincidentally they had been looking for a young woman to take care of the home, since Mrs. Piachet had to travel to visit her mother and Mrs. Harris was very ill to do it herself, as she had done in previous years.

Bulma wore an old black suit and an apron that time ago presumed to be white and followed Mrs. Piachet around the house while she vaguely explained what her tasks would be if Mr. Harris accepted her at his home.

Bulma braided her long wavy hair, hoping that that would be the most appropriate aspect to do those tasks. She hadn’t noticed, but she had never observed her employees with much attention to notice how they presented themselves.

Later she cleaned the kitchen floor. Bulma’s dedication was such that she seemed to believe that everything depended on the brightness of those tiles. Then, when she was in charge of sweeping the living room and dusting Mr. Harris's library, she couldn’t help but take some of the books that were on display there, remembering her father's gigantic library and imagining how many books she didn’t had the time to read, before she had to deliver everything. She took one of vermilion cover and recognized the golden letters, written in French.

“Do you know how to read?” she heard at her back and was so startled that she dropped the book on the floor.

Bulma turned and saw a middle-aged man, with gray hair and an incipient belly. Bulma crouched quickly and picked up the book.

“Excuse me! Tha was inappropriate of me,” she said, saving it.

“Don't worry...”

He approached and took a seat near her and smiled broadly. Bulma returned the gesture and bowed politely.

“Such a refined reverence for a domestic employee.”

"I have been well instructed..." she answered quickly.

“I see. Tell me, you name is Bulma, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir.”

"Mrs. Piachet says you don’t have much experience.”

“But... but I’m very predisposed to work, please ... I need this job mucha than you can imagine.”

“I'll be very strict on you, Bulma. If you are going to work for me, I hope you fulfill your tasks with excellence. Nothing less.”

“Of course, sir. I will try hard, I promise.”

  
Mr. Harris had a considerate smile. He seemed to be a kind man, and in spite of his words his affable aspect didn’t change. After giving some instructions to Bulma, he retired to his office to take care of his work.

Bulma went through the house and meticulously cleaned every corner until her hands hurt. She still didn’t know how she would prepare dinner if she knew absolutely nothing about it. Despite this, she remained optimistic and hoped that Mrs. Piachet would guide her.

When the afternoon came, Mrs. Piachet left a list on the table with the food she would have to prepare and a few brief instructions written with horrible spelling errors and an unfortunate calligraphy. After deciphering it, she looked at the shopping bag and took some white potatoes. He washed them carefully under the kitchen tap and prepared to peel them. She took a breath, since that was a tremendous challenge for her.

Suddenly Mr. Harris came out of his office and sat down at the kitchen table. She turned and looked at him, his face was flushed and only smiled at her. Uncomfortable, Bulma returned to her challenge and began to peel the potato she was holding in her hands. In the silent room, all that was heard was Mr. Harris's deep breathing. For some reason Bulma's discomfort increased.

Why did she had the feeling that he was looking at her with other intentions?

She was his employee, of course he had the right to stay in the room he wanted, whenever he wanted. Her presence should be like the one of piece of furniture. But internally she wondered why he was sitting there watching her when his wife was so sick in the room above. She looked back over her shoulder and met his gaze. Did he always have that congested look?

“Bulma Briefs...” he finally said.

Bulma was petrified. He knew exactly who she was and, surely, he would also knew the circumstances that had brought her to him.

“I beg your pardon?” she asked, turning slightly. She had to be sure of what she had just heard.

“Miss Bulma Briefs, cooking for me ... at my own house.”

The young woman swallowed hard and turned around holding onto the counter.

“Do you want to make fun of me?” she asked reluctantly.

“No! I do not...” he said, getting up with some difficulty.

“Are you drunk?” she asked scandalized while seeing the difficulty of his steps.

“Bulma, how old are you?”

He approached her in such a way that the only thing that separated them was his heavy and stinking breathing. She doubted her response as she didn’t understand what was happening. All she understood was the sudden terror that caused his pleasant smile. Once in front of her she realized how high he really was, now, facing his panting chest.

"I have... I have things to do, sir." she said firmly.

"It has been a long time ago..." he began, noting the folds of her dress.

It wasn’t possible that something like this was happening to her. She was a fine and classy lady, her family had the most distinguished titles. She would never have imagined herself living a situation like that.

“Move away, please...” she begged him.

"It has been long time ago," he repeated, "I don’t have a young woman in this house...”

He moved closer and Bulma could feel the moisture of his breath brushing her neck. She straightened against the counter once more, regretting not being able to get away from him. He rested his hands on the counter, next to hers, and then inspected her lips with his eyes.

"I'll scream," she said trying to make it sound like a threat.

“No one is going to believe you... I am a renowned merchant, and you are nothing, no one. I gave you a job and you wanted to take advantage of my kindness and the condition of my wife, you wanted to blackmail me to get money from me because you're broke. You're nothing but a poor miserable girl.”

“That is not true.”  
“Who do you think will listen? The orphan, the ruined daughter of a poor idiot who lost everything because of a bad investment? or me. Do not resist... that's how things work” he said and lifted her skirt, caressing from her knee to her white thighs.

Without thinking, Bulma stroke on Mr. Harris's head the first thing her right hand could reach. In the blink of an eye she knocked him down with a steel pan and now he was lying unconscious on the kitchen floor. Bulma looked at the dented pan and let it fall to the ground causing loud metallic sound. She covered her lips horrified by what she had just done.

“Mr. Harris?” she called with apprehension.

She heard a slight moan then, which meant he was still alive and would probably stand up again. Sadly, he had told her a bitter reality, nobody was going to believe the miserable Bulma Briefs. Any doubt she might had vanished when confronted with an even more cruel fate than she already had. Hurriedly she ran to the room where she had slept the night before and picked up her belongings. She took her modest handbag and ran out the back door. After a few blocks she stopped running, however, she continued at a brisk pace, constantly looking over his shoulder.

When she finally felt that she was far enough away from the Harris’s residence, she stopped and sat on the ground by the street. Maybe right now the police would be looking for her, or who knows, perhaps Harris himself would look for her make her pay for what she had done.

Again, she was conditioned to the desperate search for a roof. Bulma didn’t want to imagine the horrors she could experience on the streets, after what she had lived in that house. She was worried, what if they were looking for her? If so, if someone recognized her they could hand her over to the police in any house she dared to enter. Being that way and very much in spite of how tired she was, she took her purse one more time and walked as far as she could. Bulma had more chances of not being discovered if she went into another residential neighborhood.

The idea of the monastery crossed her mind for the second time. Each time it became more attractive and less stressful. The nuns would not try to take advantage of her, although perhaps they would try to discipline her strictly.

The hope she had of recovering her life as it was had not disappeared, and when she walked past a church, she didn’t turn around to look at it twice. Bulma was as determined as she was the day before.

If only she had been born a man, she could be a science tutor. Shad more knowledge than anyone she knew but who would hire a woman? Her gender exaggeratedly conditioned her possibilities, as did her moral standards. So much that the idea of being a brothel dancer, the easiest way out, had not even crossed her mind.

When she finally found another middle-class neighborhood, she looked around and carefully analyzed the first house in which she would present himself. She shook off the dirt that was staining her old black dress and started around the house with the number 315. Unfortunately, she was informed that they did not need her services there, but the young maid who received her kindly pointed out the house on the corner and told her that maybe there she would have more luck.

Bulma stood in front of the house and after looking at the blue door for what it seemed an eternal second, knocked on the door firmly. It did not take long to open, and in front of her was a young girl with dark hair, neatly ordered in a hairstyle. The girl looked at her with a frown, but after a moment she relaxed and greeted her.

“I can help you?”

"Good afternoon," Bulma said and introduced herself. “I’m sorry to bother you, I'm looking for a job and someone told me that in this residence they were looking for a domestic.”

“You want to work?”

Bulma found a bit of surprise in her tone, but ignored it.

“Yes, Mrs. I do not have much experience but I promise to be diligent in my chores" she said with a slight bow.

"Go ahead, take a seat, I'll call the lady right away and have her interview you if she pleases." When she entered the residence, she found it as neat as his maid's appearance, sat on a comfortable sofa, and stared at the pristine glass table for tea. A little later an old woman came down the stairs, her face wrinkled and her back hunched. She walked with the help of a cane with fine prints and wore a light gray dress and a white headdress. Bulma immediately stood up and reverenced the owner of the residence, introduced herself and the woman without much effort made a gesture to her to sit down. She then sat on the adjoining sofa and put her cane under both her hands.

“My name is Berenice Strauts. Let's see, girl. Do you have any recommendations? Have you worked in another residence before?”

“Uhm ... no… I resent not having any recommendations to present you.”

“Is it your first job? How old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

“You're something older for this is to be your first job.”

“Well… my parents died recently and I depended financially on them. Now I have nowhere to live and I desperately need a job...”

The woman analyzed her expression. Bulma immediately understood that she was facing a very experienced woman, and maybe her sincerity would be appreciated.

"So, you're an orphan..." she said deliberating. “Well, you can stay.”

“Seriously?!” She roared enthusiastically about to jump out of her seat.

“Wait, girl. I’ll take you… for a period of time and we will see if you can be of use. Try hard, I'm very demanding.”

Bulma was quick to thank once again for the opportunity to the point of almost overwhelming Mrs. Strauts. Then she said goodbye but not before informing her that Gea would be in charge of showing her around.

That afternoon she was calm, and although she expected a patrol to come looking for her, they never showed up. Gea showed her the bedroom she would share with two other young ladies, Litta and Marcel, and then gave her a tour of the house. Of course, it didn’t occupy a third of the mansion that Bulma once had, however the moldings on the walls were imposing. The furniture was made of the finest wood and the most impressive prints. She still didn’t know how Mrs. Berenice Strauts had made her fortune, but she supposed that she had become a widow and maintained that residence with the help of her children. He had seen them in some paintings that hung in different parts of the house.

After the tour, Gea listed his obligations, which doubled those that had given to her in the previous house. Then she took her to the warehouse and asked her to pick up several cleaning supplies to later guide her to the bathroom in the guest room. That had been one of her great fears. She knew the day would come when she would have to clean someone else's bathroom and although she considered it slightly humiliating, she knew he had to make a good impression. She turned to Gaa, who was watching her and could swear she was smiling.

"Clean it" she said, crossing her arms on the threshold of the door.

Suddenly, she recalled the strange feeling that ran through her while looking at Mr. Harris. However, she crouched on her knees and began to scratch the scale of the toilet. When she finished, she took care of the moldings that held it to the floor, with the same care in which she had cleaned the floor of Mr. Harris's kitchen. But when she was about to get up she heard Gea's voice once more.

“You missed a spot.”

Bulma had not even noticed that she continued to supervise her, but without hesitation she set about brushing the spotless area that Gea had pointed out to her.

By the time she finished, there was a sharp smell of cleaning products, so impressive was it that her eyes had almost completely reddened. Although it was definitely better to the stench that was found upon entering.

When the bathroom finally met Gea's standards, she led her to the kitchen and asked her to do exactly the same. While she watched her carefully from the entrance to the dining room. Bulma scratched with a brush all the oil stains stuck on the lowest part of the oven, as well as the floor and the tiles on the wall. She began to suffer intense heat and perspired her brow but, despite this, continued with her tasks until satisfied. When she finished, she placed her hands on his hip victoriously and looked at Gea with a smiling.

"You missed spot," she repeated in a monotonous tone.

"No, I didn’t," Bulma replied, much to her surprise.

Gea took an egg from the shelf and threw it on the ground, between them two.

"Yes, you did," she said, leaning against the doorframe, her eyes fixed on her blue ones.

Bulma was shocked.

“What is your problem?”

The girl with an impeccable hairstyle looked with a bitter face at Bulma, who was lying static on the other side, next to the yellow spot on the floor.

“Of course, you do not remember me.”

“Remember? what are you talking about?”

“Before working here, I worked in the mansion of Marquis Trosvki. Do you remember last year's debutante party? You complained that the food I served was in poor condition.”

Of course, Bulma didn’t remember, maybe she had made a comment like that. She wasn’t sure.

“I was fired that day for your comments, I went looking for a job for three months until Mrs. Berenice received me here. And now I am her most trusted employee. The turns of life, right? Now you depend on me, and who knows. Maybe you'll finish three months on the street like me. Oh, no, wait... you wouldn’t even survive, the street would swallow you alive. You're nothing but a spoiled brat.”

“Listen, I'm sorry about what happened, I had no idea. But I really need this job.”

"And you're going to suffer every day you work here," she said throwing a second egg to the floor.

“Hey, enough!”

“Clean it, didn’t you want to work?”

 Bulma wanted to jump on her throat, but she took a deep breath. She couldn’t lose a second job. She clenched her fists and furiously bent down to clean the egg stains on the kitchen floor.

  
Gea enjoyed watching her struggling to remove the slimy stain, even releasing a laugh. Then she left her alone finishing her work and as it was getting late, they prepared dinner. Gea continued the rest of the evening sabotaging Bulma's work, accidentally knocked her cutlery to the floor and gave her a broken glass that she latter was pouring to serve Mrs. Berenice. The lady received the dripping glass with a bitter expression, but didn’t say anything. After dinner the four ladies went to their bedroom to rest. Bulma dressed in her pajamas and hid her purse under her bed. She was sure that Gea would not stay quiet even during the night. The next day, Gea seemed calmer. Maybe she had even got bored of torturing her. To the surprise of Bulma, they carried out their tasks with total normality and she even had time to talk with Litta and Marcel, two charming girls of twelve and fourteen years old. Gea was the oldest, twenty-four years old.

It was not until the afternoon, when Mrs. Berenice was going to prepare herself for tea, or so she thought, that the situation took the worst turn. Marcel had come to look for her and had asked her to accompany her to the hall. Together they walked to what appeared to be a staff meeting. Mrs. Strauts was sitting where she had received her, with an expression on her face that seemed indecipherable.

"Take a seat, girl," she asked calmly.

Bulma looked at the crowd with total confusion and then heeded Mrs. Strauts' request.

“Is there a problem?” she asked reluctantly.

“That's what I would like to know. I thought that if I gave you a chance you would show me that you were a very capable young woman, but you have disappointed me. And how quickly, " she said, looking her straight in the eye. “Gea informed me this morning that she saw you taking some jewels from my room. And we have verified that they were hidden among your belongings.”

Gea went over and placed Bulma's purse on the center of the table. She couldn’t believe the expression of sadness that Gea had on her face, as if she regretted having to give that news to Mrs. Strauts. Stunned, Bulma jumped up from her seat.

“She did it! She wants to blame me, all she wants is to get me out of here.”

“How dare you involve me in your crimes?” Gea questioned, horrified.

“Bulma, I will not call the police to have you arrested, I will do you that favor. I'll only ask you to discretely withdraw from my residence and never show up around here again.”

Berenice's last words, she expressed them without turning to see her. She was as disappointed in Bulma as she was in judging her character when she entered her home. She wanted to refute and explain to her, but she understood that Gea had won Mrs. Strauts' trust long before she arrived. Bulma had already lost.

"Thank you very much for the opportunity, Mrs. Strauts," Bulma said after taking her purse and heading for the exit door.

“Don’t you think you have to check it in case she tried to take something else?” Gea asked and Bulma turned to meet her eyes for the last time.

She had never felt that burning in her chest before, but she knew that she should respect Mrs. Strauts and that was the only reason why she took the knob from the door and left. Once on the other side an angry tear escaped the clearing of her eyes.

Once again, she found herself walking aimlessly, to a distant place she did not know. Without a roof over her head and a few pennys in her pocket. She wandered until the aroma of a bakery caught her and came to the door, looked thought the window, and when her stomach roared, she walked to the sidewalk in front and sat next to a fountain.

It was a particularly hot day, and she was still wearing that awful black dress she had taken from Mr. Harris's house.

She felt defeated, as if every attempt she made to advance was discarded by the life she had before. What was the case in continuing trying? She had to be realistic, recovering her previous life was just a distant dream, literally impossible. She was an outcast.

When she felt a couple of tears fall on her apron, she made no effort to stop them. Bulma was exhausted. She had worked more these last two days than in her entire life. She had walked so far that her shoes had ripped, but she continued. And for that moment she had no strength left.

A piece of white cloth appeared in front of her, and beneath it the calloused hand of a disheveled young man.

Bulma looked up and met a friendly smile. He had his face marked with several scars that at another time he would have found fearsome. She appreciated the gesture and took the handkerchief shyly, wiped her face and returned a warm smile to the young man who had sat next to her.

"Hi, I’m Bulma," she said introducing himself, and after cleaning her cheeks she returned the cloth handkerchief.

“My name is Yamcha.”

“Nice to meet you, Yamcha.”

“Excuse me but, is there anything I can help you with?”

Bulma smiled once more, she was sorry to be seen in such a depressing state.

“Do you have a job you can offer me?” she replied laughing.

“I'm sorry, I'm just a stable boy. But I do know someone who can give you a job if you need it very urgently.”

“Seriously?”

“It's not the kindest employer in the world, but the pay is good. Recently one of the servants of the Lord resigned, it happens very often. He has a complicated temper... Luckily, I don’t have too much treatment with him because I work in the stables. But if you have a great need to work, I can introduce him to you.”

“Why would you do that for a stranger?”

“Are you going to disappoint me?”

“Of course not!”

“Then there will be no problem.”

Yamcha got up and invited her to accompany him. On the way they talked about the Lord, as wealthy as he was bad humored. He told him about all the employees who worked in that great mansion. It seemed to be quite quiet, since the Lord did not receive many visits.  
Bulma briefly explained the circumstances of her dismissal to Yamcha, omitting what she had lived with Gaea in her previous life. She also told him what had happened with Mr. Harris, and how she had escaped. He seemed to understand her predicament perfectly. He knew well that his status made them guilty easy. Upon arriving at the mansion, Bulma was ecstatic. It was much bigger than the last ones she had visited. Although never as big as hers had been.

"It's huge," she whispered and Yamcha smiled.

The young man opened the door and asked Bulma to wait there. The living room was huge and full of books to the last inch of the wall. The decoration seemed dismal, all the furniture was covered with vermilion cloth and the wood so dark that it looked black to the common eye. But Bulma knew widely the most expensive and eccentric materials. She ran her fingertips through the engravings on the back of a sofa, as delicate as it was imposing. And then, instinctively, she chose it to sit down.

The time it took to wait for Yamcha was eternal. She looked around every corner and even tried to sharpen her ears hoping to hear their conversation but failed. When she began to get bored, she looked out the window behind her and noticed that the night had fallen. She would have to work particularly hard with that Lord if she didn’t want to sleep on the street.

She suddenly heard the knob turning and stood up to introduce herself. Horrified, she discovered the familiar face of the Lord on the other side. Count Ouji Vegeta seemed to find her with singular surprise and, somewhat rejoiced. He gave her a half smile when he recognized her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this is not so horrible to read, as my english isn't quite good. I just hope you like it, thank you for the kudos!


	3. Chapter III

**IN YOUR HANDS**

Chapter

-III-

He never imagined what he would find when he opened the door of his living room. The ostler had approached him so boldly while working in his office that he was ready to fire him for the umpteenth time, and send that young girl where she came from. But he had begged him so pitifully, telling him a tragic story about a homeless girl that he had no remedy but to present himself.

For a moment he couldn't believe what his eyes saw. It was the same ungrateful young lady who had rejected him in front of everyone at Baron Headmund's last dance. He stared at her hesitantly, for only a brief second. She was dressed in a ragged black maid outfit, very different from the opulent pink dress she wore the last time he saw her. Her exquisite curly hair, elegantly gathered, was now a tousled braid with wavy strands of hair at the sides of her face.

She seemed both surprised and horrified to see him there.

Vegeta walked confidently through the room, with a smirk on his face. A cruel gesture, she thought. A delicious irony.

He sat opposite to her, in a chair identical to the other, on which Bulma had sat. And with a gesture of his gloved hand he offered her to sit down again. Although reluctant, Bulma accepted. Gritting her teeth and while trying to control her congested expression she looked at him, broken by his smiling face.

He knew everything. He knew that Duke Briefs had closed a millionaire deal with Baron Black, then lost everything and became seriously ill until he died. Soon it came to his knowledge that the property in which they resided was for sale, shortly after. However, that cause nothing on him, not a trace of empathy, or something similar to pity. On the contrary, he found himself amused by that palpable disadvantage between the two of them.

She had humiliated him greatly in their last meeting. He had left that dance with his face flushed, regretting having chosen her for that one dance in which he felt obliged to participate. He had argued, as usual, with his brother Tarble and they had gone back home on bad terms once more.

After sitting down, he examined her again. Bulma felt the unseemly inspection she was undergoing and shifted in her seat.

She wasn’t sure about what to say. Her past was certainly tormenting her. Maybe if she had accepted that piece, now she would be living a more pleasant reunion. It seemed that life had turned the table around to make her pay for each of her past mistakes. However, she was not so predisposed to admit that she had made a mistake. The Count had an unfortunate reputation and she had done what any respectable lady would have done. Of course, all that dialogue would only be heard in her inner thoughts.

Right now, she was in his hands, waiting for him to say a word. Maybe he was thinking about how he was going to ask her to leave. He would tell her to seek asylum elsewhere and make fun of her in the process. But seeing that he was still wrapped in his thoughts, she spoke to him.

“Aren't you going to tell me anything?”

He suddenly widened his grin. Rested his face on his hand and looked at her quite amused.

“How desperate are you?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Do you have money?”

“Uhm... No...”

“Not a penny?”

"No, sir," she answered in a harsher tone.

"I see," he said as he reclined on the chair. “Do you have somewhere to sleep? Some distant relative, perhaps an uncle.”

“No, the only family I had were my parents. I have a sister but she went abroad many years ago and has not contacted us... me,” she corrected herself, “in a long time.”

“Then you're willing to work for me?”

“Yes...” she answered with doubt.

He seemed so strangely amused with the situation that caused her to be anxious to get out of there as soon as possible.

“Are you having fun with my circumstances?”

“Maybe a little.”

"If you're not going to give me a job, let me leave," she said, dazed, ready to get up.

“That depends on what you're willing to do.”

“Is this some kind of insult?” she questioned scandalized.

“I'm not going to touch you, you idiot brat. But I can offer you a salary that you will not get anywhere else. Not with your status, and with those awful clothes. You can sleep in one of the guest rooms, the rest of the maids have an adjoining house, but I want you within my reach twenty-four hours a day.”

Bulma relaxed, Yamcha had mentioned that his count paid his employees very well and all he demanded was extreme confidentiality.

“What would that job be?”

“That you will know once you accept.”

The count's offer was as tempting as it was terrifying.

“Tomorrow early you’ll have to go to buy clothes accordingly, I cannot have you here dressing like this. You would give me a bad image.”

 _Worse than he already had?_ she thought.

“Do you really have to think about it?” he asked, pulling her out of her reverie. “You have nowhere to sleep and the sun has set. You have no money; you have no family. The only thing you have is my offer and you still doubt… Maybe I will withdraw it.”

“Don’t!” she said quickly. “I accept, I accept your offer.”

He smiled and let her see his white teeth, as perfect as they were. He got up from his seat and she imitated him.

“I'll show you your room, follow me.”

She accompanied him up stairs, looking sideways at the family paintings and in some she saw a man identical to him, much older, who she supposed would be his father. Most of the lights in the residence were off, so she was forced to blindly trust the passage of the one who was now her Lord. He stopped in front of a room and opened the door, went to turn on the light and invited Bulma to enter. Distressed, she left her humble purse on the bed and contemplated the room. Bulma certainly couldn’t get something like that somewhere else. The delicate white furniture fascinated her. She looked at her reflection on the mirror of the dressing table next to the window and regretted her appearance. Then realized she had a private bathroom and swallowed as she imagined taking a warm bath once more.

“Do you like it?” Vegeta asked.

Bulma gave a sincere smile, she was overwhelmed and honestly grateful. Although she didn’t know what she had gotten himself into.

“Thank you…”

He looked uncomfortable at her gesture and turned around.

“My room is on the other side; you will only have permission to enter when I order you so.”

Bulma looked down the hall. The rustic wooden floor was decorated by an extensive red carpet, extremely delicate, like a path of wine. She counted about eight doors that separated their bedrooms. It was a suitable distance, she thought. Vegeta didn’t take long to close the door and retire, but not before ordering her to rest since the next day was going to be long.

Bulma sat down in front of the dresser, observing her messy curls and recognized that maybe that would be the closest proximity she would have with her previous life. And as she disarmed her braid to brush her long green hair, she wondered what the Count had planned for her. She removed the plain maid dress she had been wearing for two days, hoping it would be the last time she wore it. Once dressed in her white pajamas, she slipped between the sheets, marveling at the soft touch of the fabric on her skin. Then rested her head on the luxurious feather pillow, satisfied. Nothing the Count demanded could be so bad in exchange for sleeping in that bed every night.

She was still worried about the price of such luxury, but was so exhausted that she ended up falling asleep in a short time.

Asleep, she clung to her pillow, her hair wild, tangling over her head. When she first woke up, she found a horrible expression, it was Vegeta's enraged face, and after watching him in a daze, she realized that it was daylight.

Embarrassed, she covered with the sheets and jumped up onto the back of her bed.

“It's late, woman.”

Bulma turned on the alarm clock on the night table and remembered that she hadn’t programmed it the night before. It was already past nine thirty.

She turned to the Count with an expression of panic.

“There is a dress in the wardrobe, get dressed immediately and go down to my office.”

"Yes, sir," Bulma said quickly and once the Count closed the door, she let out a sigh.

It was not the best start. Had he called her _woman_? She wondered as she got up and stretched out bed. Then she went to the large oak wardrobe and pulled out a light summer floral dress. It seemed to be her size and after dressing she discovered how much it flattered her slender figure. It had exquisite long sleeves with lace and a beautiful embroidery on the neckline. A neckline very typical of a lady, very modest.

When she went down the stairs, she found several cleaning employees in the living room. When they saw her they greeted her with cordiality.

“Good morning, miss, do you like to have breakfast in the dining room? The Count has already had it.

Disconcerted, Bulma replied.

“It isn’t necessary. I also work here now,” she said in an uncertain tone.

Instinctively the employee observed the path that Bulma had traveled to the first floor and then raised her eyebrows as if she understood something that Bulma did not know. She turned around, hoping to recognize what the maid had discovered and then, with horror, turned to explain.

“Please don’t misunderstand! I slept in the guest room...”

“It’s okay, miss. You do not have to explain to us, we don’t indulge in the count’s affairs" she answered somewhat uncomfortably.

“Excuse me...” Bulma continued, “where is the Count's office?”

“I will guide you.”

During the extensive tour of corridors, Bulma reanalyzed that encounter with the Count’s servants. Were they so accustomed to receiving unknown women in the mornings? Certainly, his bad reputation had sustenance. Now Bulma understood what Yamcha was referring to when he spoke about extreme confidentiality.

"Here it is, miss," said the courteous lady, and withdrew.

Bulma was ready to face what Vegeta had planned for her. She knocked decisively on the door.

“It’s me, count. It’s Bulma.”

"Get in."

She took the latch and entered the Lord's office. Vegeta's office had more books than the living room, they were everywhere. And to her right a gigantic window between two thick curtains embroidered. On the other side was an imposing garden and black steed and grazing area.

"Here," he said without looking at her or realizing how lost she was in his garden.

She looked at the velvet bag on the table and took it in her hands. He wrote on a piece of paper and gave it to her.

“Go to this address, ask the maids how to get there. That's where they buy their uniforms. Tell them you're there on my behalf, they'll know what to give you. When you finish, come back immediately, and we will talk about your working conditions.”

"Yes, sir," Bulma answered for the second time that day.

Shortly thereafter she was walking through the streets in the direction of the store that the Lord had indicated. His employees had been especially kind to point the way. When she arrived, she introduced herself as Vegeta had told him and an older man took several measures of her body. Bulma paid in advance and the lady informed her that her uniform would be ready in a couple of days. She returned along the same path, calmer than the day before. In her previous life she had never walked out of her mansion on her own, she was always transported in the newest carriages. However, she found some tranquility in that walk. Nothing was expected of her anymore, as when looking splendid was an obligation.

When she reached the mansion again, she mentally prepared herself to face the new challenge that the Cond had prepared for her. How bad could it be? Bulma entered again and toured the mansion until she reached Vegeta's office, again she knocked on the door and announced herself.

Without making her wait long, Vegeta ordered her to enter and, once inside, told her to close the door.

Bulma sat on the other side of the large sturdy wooden desk on which Vegeta signed some documents, then he put his pen in the inkwell and turned to see her. Once again, that gloomy smile of his appeared on his face. A frowning and penetrating gaze.

“You went for your uniform?” he asked first.

“Yes, they took my measurements and said they would be ready in a couple of days. They informed me that you usually ask for two and I left them paid.”

“Excellent. Well, I suppose it's time to inform you of the work you're going to do from now on.”

Bulma pressed her hands over her skirt since, judging from his expression, it couldn’t be any good.

“You will be my valet.”

“What?!” she roared in outrage and got up from her seat, almost knocking over the chair she was sitting on.

And although the term valet may have connotations that could be considered improper of a lady, it is not anything further from it. If that would be her job, she should personally take care to lay his master's bed, prepare his daily wardrobe and even help him get dressed. From fixing the fold of his tie to preparing his bathroom. Serve him the food and make sure that his shoes were impeccable at all times.

“It's a man's job!”

“Well, now it's your job,” he answered smiling, “or you can go out and look for a better offer. By the way...” From one of the drawers of his desk he pulled out another thin velvet bag, "consider this an advance on the next month pay check.”

Despite how exacerbated she was, she couldn’t bear the uncertainty and took the bag to check its content. Surprisingly it was about five times what Mr. Harris would pay her and that was just an advance. She had no way to reject such an ostentatious proposal, not if she wanted to relive the comforts of her previous life once more. However, she had finally understood what the Count had planned: an endless series of humiliations. A lady of a good family like she was, confined to perform tasks that a man would typically have done. Perhaps less demeaning would even be working in the stables with Yamcha.

“Do you have anything else to offer me?” she asked leaving the bag on the table.

“It's the only position I have free, I don’t have a valet for about eight years now. The last one resigned and I haven’t wanted to hire another one until this moment. But if you don’t want the job...”

When he was about to retrieve the bag, Bulma took it nimbly.

“Don’t…” she said, embarrassed. “I will be your valet, sir.”

On the other side of the desk, he seemed to be having a lot of fun about what was happening.

“You'll have a free day a week, you just have to inform me in advance what day it will be and depending on my needs you can take it. Now go to my room to make my bed and prepare a suit for this afternoon, I have a meeting.”

“Yes…”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, sir…”

Vegeta didn’t have to say anything for her to retire to fulfill her new obligations. Once in his bedroom she inspected the bed and realized that, in her previous life, she had certainly high standards of what her bed should look like. But now, standing there, she realized that she had no idea how her maids achieved that pristine appearance. Bulma started disarming it completely and then tried to guess the order in which the sheets should go. She was surprised at the technique that required stretching the sheets so that they didn’t have any creases, and when she got it the other side disarmed completely.

When finished, she was exhausted, placing the thick cushions on the bed in an order that she thought would be the most harmonious. Then turned to Vegeta's dark wood wardrobe and selected a navy-blue jacket with exquisite embroidery in red thread that she then placed on the bed to examine. Bulma chose black pants that thought would look great with a pair of dark shoes with a golden buckle. Finally, took a white silk shirt with a high collar. Once she saw all the outfit lying on the bed, she felt the disquieting impression that something was missing. She remembered then that the Lord seemed to have a taste for gloves, so she rummaged through his drawers until she found another pair that happened to have delicate embroidery in red thread.

"Excellent," she said to herself with satisfaction.

Soon after, Vegeta appeared in his bedroom, removing the cufflinks from the sleeve of his shirt. Then he observed the garments arranged on the bed and raised an eyebrow. It shouldn’t surprise him that she had the ability to form a decent set of clothes but couldn’t leave the task go so easily. He closed the door behind him and turned his back on her.

Bulma, expectantly, observed his torso without knowing what it was about or what he was doing.

“What are you waiting for?” he questioned, looking at her over his shoulder. “Help me take off my suit.”

“Are you kidding?” escaped her mouth.

“If you're not going to do your job then you can leave, I have no use for a valet who can not fulfill something as basic as this.”

“Wait…”

Bulma paled. It was immoral, it was scandalous. And, although the task intimidated her greatly, she tried to recover her composure and gather the courage to meet her master. She approached slowly and, with shaking hands, took the jacket of his shoulders and tried to remove it. If she could have seen him face-to-face she would have met the Count's cynical smile, fortunately she was too focused on soothing the suffocating heat from her chest to the last capillary of her cheeks.

Once she removed the jacket he turned around, facing her.

“Now undo the buttons.”

He was amused by her congested face, expecting her to quit right then, but Bulma was so determined that, despite her convulsed expression, she clasped her delicate hands to undo the first button of his shirt. He could hear her swallowing while she undressed him, even sensing the trembling of her hands that prevented her from removing that little button from the buttonhole. But then, with more concentration than any other valet would have required, Bulma managed to undo it and continued with the second and third until it was over. Then, without Vegeta having to ask her, she pulled the shirt over his shoulders and without looking into his eyes she left it next to his jacket.

Now awaited a task that, Vegeta thought, would scandalize her. But Bulma took courage and knelt in front of him ready to undo the button of his pants.

Seeing her there, crouched between his legs, Vegeta felt a slight chill. She stretched her snowy hand to him, however the Count intercepted her in the attempt and then took her by the shoulders to lift her.

"I can handle that," he said uncomfortably.

Far from understanding the murky feeling she had given the Count, Bulma released the air that held trapped in her lungs. Already more relaxed, she waited until he finished undressing while looking at the cracks in the wooden floor of the bedroom. Diligent, Bulma approached him the other pair that had chosen for him and he, wearing only his underwear, put it in a hurry.

Once in his pants he felt calmer. Maybe he had gone a little too far.

He looked at her with a frown telling her to hurry and she reached for his white silk shirt. She approached him from behind and put the sleeves, dragging the soft garment up his broad back. He walked around her to button his shirt once more while watching her.

Vegeta could feel her breath on his torso, while buttoning his shirt with her face flushed. And, when she reached the last button, their eyes met. The Count turned his face quickly while Bulma neatly arranged the collar of his shirt.

"Hurry," he ordered and felt a certain frustratio.

He repeated the same ritual as with the shirt, but this time Vegeta adjusting his blue jacket for himself. Bulma handed him the gloves and he dressed them. And for the final task, the shoes awaited her.

The Count sat on a chair near the window and looked at her, holding the shoes in her hands.

"Take my shoes off frist, woman," he said, cocking a smile.

She left the pair that was next to the chair and crouched again, dazed, and took the shoe of the Count in her hands to remove it. The task required a little more work than she expected. Finally, she managed to remove one, and for Vegeta's amusement, she still had the second one left.

By the time she pulled it out, the badly combed braid that she had was messed up. And when he was ready to put the new ones on, he looked at her with a frown.

“You forgot the shoehorn.”

Bulma didn’t even know where to look for it, and from the expression on her face it was pretty obvious so Vegeta made a vague sign to the desk by the door. She quickly rummaged in the drawers until she found it and returned to put the shoes on the Lord.

Once he was dressed, Vegeta got up and looked at his reflection in a large standing mirror and then sat down again.

“I don’t like them, bring others.”

"But they look fine,” she huffed in disappointment and turned her gaze to the dark one of the Count.

"I said I want others," he said in an imposing tone.

“Yes, sir,” Bulma answered, already more obfuscated while pressing the teeth.

After returning to the arduous task of removing his shoes and putting different ones, Vegeta was satisfied and got up.

"Now I have a meeting, take care of this," he said, indicating the clutter of garments scattered in his bedroom. “Then you will have tea with me.”

Bulma was surprised by the sudden change of attitude of the Count and again found in his face that twisted smile that only meant something bad was going to happen. She didn’t know what, Vegeta had shown to be very imaginative. Would he make her clean the edges of his mouth after every bite? She wasn’t sure, but she set out to be prepared for whatever he had prepared for her.

He loved making him wait. It amused him to know him sitting there, in the office that once belonged to his father, wasting time. Tarble looked at his pocket watch, realizing that it had been twenty minutes since he had arrived and surely Vegeta was ready somewhere in the mansion.

It was a monthly torture to go pick up his allowance, but he had no other way out. Vegeta was the firstborn and, therefore, the one in charge of distributing what had been agreed upon in the inheritance for each one of the relatives. He got up from the chair in which he had been sitting for the last twenty minutes and approached the imposing window that opened onto a wide lot.

"You're just indomitable, Storm," he said when he saw Vegeta's black steed, pulling on his reins as a long-haired young man tried to control him.

The door opened and the youngest turned to meet his brother.

"Finally," he said impatiently.

Vegeta didn’t greet him, walked immutable to his desk and took a check book from the drawer, wet the tip of his pen and wrote a check that he then cut to hand his brother.

“What did you want to talk about?” He asked without real interest, while taking the opportunity to review other documents.

From the moment he had entered he hadn’t had the delicacy to look into his eyes. But Tarble was so used to his contempt that he ignored it.

“We've been invited to the Debutant Ball.”

As he expected, his brother made no further gesture.

“It is a miracle that they invited us again after the scandal of the last time. It must be out of respect for our father.”

“I'm not going.”

“You must. It is the biggest social event of the year and it will be a masquerade; they say that this year will be the biggest in ten years. There are probably five times as many guests as there was in the last one.”

Suddenly Vegeta seemed to be considering it, to his surprise. He had remained in absolute silence, with the pen hanging from his hand, and when that mental debate of his ended he turned to see him with intrigue.

“When is it?”

“In three weeks.”

“Confirm my presence,” said returning to his documents.

“Seriously?” Tarble asked, stunned.

“And I'll take a companion with me.”

All that information was too much for Tarble to have time to analyze it and understand what was really happening.

“Wait… then you met someone?”

“That's none of your business, Tarble.”

“Of course it is, it is all the reason why I have tried to drag you to those events in the first place. Who is she?”

The Count tilted his cynical smile, the one that had come so much out of his lips in the last hours.

“It’s a surprise.”

His appearance did not convey confidence at all and, even if they hated each other, Tarble knew that his brother had nothing good planned and yet there would be nothing to stop him.

Bulma waited, sitting in a large room in which the other servants had directed her. Vegeta used to have tea there, and as in the other rooms there was a dismal aspect of furniture and dark fabrics.

Lucile, Vegeta's housekeeper, ceremonially ordered the cups and notified her that her Lord would arrive soon as their meeting was over. Bulma, still worried about what Vegeta would have for her, shifted in her seat as she watched the white porcelain cup in front of her.

After a few minutes the Count entered the room and sat on the other side. Lucile stayed next to Bulma and when Vegeta ordered it she brought the cake that he had specifically requested.

Bulma looked at the face of her Lord, watching her intently as if he didn’t want to miss a second of some show that she had no idea she was participating.

"Give the lady a slice," he said to Lucile, who served Bulma a slice of the pie and then elegantly served her tea.

The sweet aroma of the tea was overshadowed by one that made Bulma's nose writhe.

"You can retire, Lucile," he said, without missing a second from Miss Briefs's face.

She took a fork and pinched the cake, and then an involuntary gesture forced her to cover her mouth.

"Eat it," the Count ordered.

“Is it?…”

“Carrot pie.”

Bulma looked at him horrified. How could he have chosen what she hated the most in the world? It was impossible that he knew, there was no way.

“Eat it… or you're fired.”

She had hated it since he had use of reason. She had rejected it countless times and avoided it in many others. But she couldn’t lose this job for a simple cake. She was stronger than that, she wasn’t able to let herself be overcome that way.

Bulma's troubled face was a delight to him. He watched her wondering what kind of internal battle was she fighting and what she would do next.

 _What would your limit be_? He thought.

She was brave and introduced a small piece of pie into her mouth that she tried to swallow without touching her tongue but it was impossible. She covered her mouth again with her hand and seemed about to cry, or vomit. Vegeta wasn’t sure what the result would be.

It wouldn’t do any good to try small bites, it would only prolong her suffering. The second bite was significantly larger, and on the verge of tears the fork was introduced and the pie chewed with conviction. She wouldn’t let herself be beaten so easily.

Vegeta ate with an enviable tranquility, but Bulma didn’t waste her time observing him. She took this task with brutal seriousness and, focused on her plate, finished it in a few minutes. Then she sipped her teacup completely and stood up.

"I need permission to go to the bathroom," she said suddenly.

Bulma was unsettled and she seemed to be using all of her self-control to dominate the emetic spasms of her stomach.

"Go ahead," he said maintaining his smile and Bulma was dismissed.

Once in the bathroom of her room, she held onto the toilet and vomited the cake she had just eaten. She kept thinking that it was not possible that he knew of the displeasure she had for that particular dish. Did Vegeta have the talent to discover her deepest fears? Impossible.

Now it was clear to Bulma that from now on no day would be easy for her, she would never know all the humiliations that he would have prepared her from then on. For a moment she questioned her conviction, that fervent desire for a comfortable life. A bed wrapped in fine fabrics, a warm bath. Was she willing to sacrifice herself so much?

Of course she was, and recently she had discovered something else: she was no longer willing to let Count Vegeta subdue her.


	4. Chapter IV

* * *

**IN YOUR HANDS**

* * *

 

Chapter

IV

* * *

 

In the morning she asked Vegeta for a couple of hours to go out and buy some personal items. He didn’t object and only ordered her to be back before two in the afternoon. She had planned to buy another dress since the ones she had asked for from her Lord's tailor were not yet ready. The previous night she had taken a hot bath as she had been dreaming, and it was something she most needed since the fiasco with the carrot pie.

That morning she had woken up to find in her reflection something that disappointed her greatly, there was no trace left of her ostentatious curls. Thanks to this, her hair was appreciated longer, however she had always considered her pompous hairstyles as a symbol of power and status. And the straight hair she was wearing now reflected the exact opposite, her reality.

She thought that the simplest solution would be to buy some rollers, but she had certainly lived by being combed by other people and had no idea how to use them. Bulma dressed in a modest linen shawl and borrowed a basket for her purchases. After asking for directions, she went to a commercial district that wasn’t far away.

On the way she asked herself about the demands of her employer. They were very strange circumstances in which she had fallen in his home and even more so were his terms of service. But she was willing to take advantage of her situation for as long as she could tolerate it. At least she hadn’t gone over her like Mr. Harris. Bulma still found the tea meeting she had shared with him the previous afternoon extremely strange. She had seen it in his gaze when he ordered her to wait for him, she even imagined the whole process in which he had demanded that they bake that pie only to serve it and see her convulse.

No, it could not be. It had to be her imagination. He had no idea. It was a coincidence. A causality.

Bulma smiled, convinced that she had been giving too much importance to a silly coincidence and continued her lonely journey to the market. She passed by in front of the bakery and, after counting the coins in the palm of her hand, she put them back into her pocket and went on. Well aware that she shouldn’t let herself fall into unnecessary expenses and if she was hungry there would surely be something in the Lord's mansion that she could eat.

She thought about asking for another advance, even if it was imprudent just imagining it. Anyone would understand her situation; however, she knew that that request would be accompanied by sinister humiliations. It was not really worth it.

She went back the same way she had come and was already familiar, but this time she felt a slight noise on the block in front of her and when she turned to look, she found the attentive faces of a group of gentlemen.

 _Gentlemen_ was the word Bulma usually used to refer to a man she didn't know personally, but those were far from it.

They wore linen shirts that at one time were white, gray pants and dark vests. One had a paper bag in his hand and, judging by its appearance, only served to hide a bottle of alcohol. She remembered seeing a tavern nearby, but she didn’t imagine it would be dangerous for her to walk alone at noon.

It only lasted a second, her inspection on them, but they immediately noticed the look of her blue eyes in spite of their atrophied senses.

Bulma heard a shout, then a phrase that tried to be flattering but turn out chilling. She quickened hers pace and they too, at the same time.

And damn it, it seemed that the street was completely deserted.

Bulma heard footsteps approaching quickly from behind her and her heart suddenly got over-excited. The only thing she could hear were the footsteps behind her and then she heard herself called by her name.

How did they know her name? Since when did they follow her? She was ready to hit whoever was behind her with her basket, then would grab her dress tightly and run to the mansion.

What if they caught her? Nobody would ask for a ransom for the maid of a mansion. One that just had a couple of days in. Maybe Vegeta would notice the day after her absence, maybe earlier, if he had something especially creepy waiting for her. But she was certainly sure he wouldn’t look for her. He’ll assumed that she just quitted as his personal valet.

She had already seen different endings in her mind and most were not at all good. Bulma took the handle of her basket, ready to finish whoever was behind her just as she did with Mr. Harris. And in that moment, she felt someone putting a hand over her shoulder. With all her strength, she took the basket and shove it into the head of the one holding her. It hit him full in the face and the _gentleman_ fell backwards to the ground.

The other side of the street exploded with the laughter of the group of men that lurked her. And she missed to look at the one that was on the ground, to then discover that it is Yamcha. Bulma didn’t know if she should apologize or hit him again for the shock he had given her.

“What are you doing lying down there?! You scared me to death!” she roared, her face flushed.

Then she looked at him, gathering the things on the floor and bent down to help him.

“I can do it myself.”

“I’m sorry, I thought you heard me.”

He was smiling lightly, almost amused by what she had just done. Bulma was still blushed and it was really evident in her snowy skin. The young man got up, still hearing on the other side of the street the laughter of the men that had just left the tavern. He smiled broadly at Bulma and returned her basket.

"Let me walk with with you," he asked kindly and without saying anything, Bulma continued to walk quite dazed.

“How were your first days with the Count?” He asked after a few blocks.

She thought about her answer. Of course, she wasn’t going to tell him that she had helped the Count get dressed, nor that she was making his bed in the morning. She pressed her lips gently and with a slight frown, she replied.

“Fine, I guess. The other girls are very kind to me, not like Gea was," she said, but then she remembered that she had left Gea without a job and that, because of her, she had lived three months in the street. However, she couldn’t tell Yamcha that part of the story.

“And he's not a pervert like Mr. Harris, he's just a little...”

“Grumpy?” He was encouraged to complete.

She wanted to tell him that Count Vegeta could be a real wretch, but she held back. If he stayed at the Count's mansion for so long he probably already knew it.

“You don’t have to worry about him trying to step out of line with you...”

“You think I'm not attractive enough for him?”

Bulma immediately regretted her words and looked back at the path. Why had that comment offended her? Yamcha laughed uncomfortably since he didn’t had an answer to that question. If it was based on his own standards, Bulma was too much for a man as repulsive as his Lord. However, the same standards of the aforementioned would surely be above the social stratum in which she was now. So, in a way, she wasn’t enough for him, but he couldn’t tell her that without insulting her.

"That man doesn’t want any women," he answered, eluding her question, and continued. “The ones you should be careful of are the rest of the men in the city. The Count has never gone over with a maid, not that I know.”

“That's what confidentiality is about, right?”

He nodded, without saying more.

"Thank you for accompanying me today," she said later. “Those men were making me nervous.”

“Don’t worry, when you want to leave the mansion and don’t feel safe just let me know and I'll walk with you.”

At the outside of the mansion, Bulma looked at the giant window panes on the first floor and felt the movement of one of the curtains. Maybe the servants were cleaning the glass. She said goodbye to Yamcha on the steps of the entrance and while he was going to the stables, she entered the mansion.

After leaving her shopping in her room, she returned the basket that she had borrowed from the maids and looked at the tall wooden clock on the living room, next to fireplace. Ten minutes pase two.

Horrified, she ran to Vegeta's office and on the walk stumbled over the worn sole of her broken shoe. She had forgotten it. Without checking her knee, she got up and a few seconds later she was knocking on the door of her Master, but he didn’t answer. She knocked for the second time.

“Sir?” she asked with one hand on the doorknob and it opened on her nose.

The force with which Vegeta had opened it ruffled Bulma's bangs and the stray locks that lay around her cheeks.

“You don’t even have a week here, and you dare to be late?”

“I’m sorry! I had an incident, it wasn’t my intention, there was a...”

“Enough of your excuses. You are delaying my training,” he said, passing her, walking down a corridor that led to the back of the mansion.

Then he turned in disbelief, she was still standing by the doorframe with her explanations on the tip of her tongue.

“Follow me, woman!”

The name he used to address her was becoming more and more denigrating. Maybe at first it had gone over her head, floating, as if she didn’t realize it. But now her nerves were twitching. She bit her tongue and walked behind the Lord, feeling an electric spark in her kneecap.

But who had time to see for her own comfort when Count Vegeta was so late in his workouts? Finally, Vegeta opened the door of a spacious room with polished wood floors, with large windows that opened onto the inner courtyard of the mansion.

Bulma looked out the window and saw the same black steel she had seen before, grazing peacefully by a marble fountain.

"What a beautiful creature," she said to him, amazed by the fur of that majestic beast.

Vegeta turned to his horse and a half smile printed on his face, wider than usual.

"Wait here," he ordered before retreating into the dressing room.

When he returned, he had a white suit in his hand and a mask that Bulma thought she recognized, but before she could say it out loud Vegeta had thrown the suit off and she held it nervously trying to avoid falling to the ground with it.

“Get dressed, the dressing room is over there,” he gestured with a grimace. “Then come back here. I’ll wait.”

The petulant smile of her Lord petrified her. Was he really forcing her to participate in his training? She rather expected to watch him fight a duel with a third party, maybe wipe the sweat from his forehead, serve him a glass of water, pick up his dirty clothes and have a clean change ready. Maybe she had underestimated his imagination, since a valet had to take care of absolutely all of his Master's needs. But that was too much. She was fragile, delicate as the society lady who she... was. Right, she wasn’t a lady anymore.

Bulma took the thick and heavy white suit in her hands, maybe even heavier than her own body. Of course, it had to prevent her opponent's sword from penetrating it... and the thought of dueling with Vegeta shook her. After putting on the suit, she looked at the mirror of the fitting room and noticed the bulky suit hadn’t completely disappeared her curves as she would have expected. Then she put on the fencing helmet and took a big breath before leaving.

When she stepped back onto the parquet floor, found Vegeta's figure on the other side of the room, wearing the same white suit she was wearing. But with his helmet was suspended between his left arm and his hip. He walked around the room, still wearing his mean smile and stood in front of an exhibitor and among the fifteen foils it had, he lifted one. Felt its weight with his index finger and smiled. Then took one whose galvans looked like golden bindweed that fit perfectly on the hilt, and held it after putting his mask on.

He approached Bulma and handed her the foil. She was totally appalled by what she was about to do, but she swallowed hard and held the foil up by its hilt. Then she saw Vegeta raise his mask over his forehead and look into her eyes.

“First you must salute. I guess you know the basic rules of fencing.”

He walked about ten paces away and half-fitted his mask. He turned on his side and while one of his hands was occupied to hold his blade, the other had been hidden behind his back. Bulma, nervous as she was, imitated Vegeta's position like a mirror and both raised their weapons to greet each other. Then Vegeta precisely placed his mask and she did the same, but in a clumsier way.

The Count took a step forward and Bulma stepped back three steps, her foil raised. Vegeta laughed to himself, she was behaving like a spoiled child, but that was not an impediment to continue their fight. He wondered how long it would take her to start crying and quit her job as a valet. But Bulma had no intention of letting herself be defeated. She was terrified, yes. It was the first time in her life that she faced a gentleman in a sport, maybe she would have participated in some extra official horse race, but never in a melee match. It was not proper, it was scandalous. Like everything that passed through Vegeta's mind.

While wandering in her thoughts, Vegeta approached her with such agility that she didn’t have time to go back a step further, brandished the meter of his sword against her and touched her in the center of her chest, making the edge bend between the two of them. Behind Vegeta's grilled mask, Bulma could see the white of his teeth greeting her in a sufficient mocking smile.

"I touched you," he said and walked away.

Point for Vegeta.

Bulma realized that she couldn’t be as fast as him, even if she tried. Therefore, backing off might not be an option. It was difficult for her to back off carrying that enormous suit and mask, as well as to add the difficulty of backing her steps while maintaining the position of her back. Maybe she should concentrate solely on her defense. She was surprised at how much she thought about her strategy, as if she really cared about being a worthy opponent to him.

The second duel began and Vegeta moved elegantly forward a few steps staring at the congested face of his servant. Her frown was noticeably puckered, still behind that thick mask that covered it. He swung his sword skillfully, however slower than one might have expected of him. Slow enough for Bulma to defend herself by hitting him with the blade of her foil.

The metallic hit of both sheets made itself heard like a roar in the room, and Vegeta immediately noticed how the maid inflated her chest with satisfaction. He smiled, with how little she seemed to feel satisfied. And to deflate that sudden enthusiasm, Vegeta twirled his foil with hers and with a light leap he returned to nail the round tip next to where her heart would be.

Bulma looked at the curved blade on her chest, and instinctively squeezed the hilt of her weapon. The Count retired a second time and positioned himself to attack her again. This time she felt the urgent need to attack him. Without realizing it, she had wrinkled her lips.

This was not a training, Vegeta wouldn’t get any improvement by training with her if she couldn’t go through two moves. This, of course, was one more way of mocking her, of humiliating her, of seeing her defeated. A conscientious way of dressing her contemptuously as a man, in the role he had designated her. All for that damn dance she had rejected. Was he so bored with his own life that he devoted himself to having her as a pet?

The Count was surprised to see her pounce on him, and although he defended his position, he found himself amused by the wave of clumsy attacks of his maid. He could hear their swords clash at least ten times, before deciding to attack her. Bulma had thrown a sword straight at his face, but Vegeta had crouched in front of her and with the blade of his foil hit the back of her knees and Bulma fell on her back.

When she opened her eyes, she saw him standing in front of her, driving his sword into the middle of her stomach.

"Touche," he said before turning around. “I'm tired of training with you,” he removed his mask and placed it on a table against the wall. “You can retire for now, prepare my bath. I will continue training for a while longer, so keep it warm.”

It seemed too unimportant to help her get up from the floor, so she reluctantly got up on her own and took off her mask to leave her next to Vegeta's. She changed her clothes, leaving the suit hanging along with the rest and, after putting on her plain dress, retired to the mansion. More specifically to Vegeta's private bathroom.

She was so furious about their little encounter that the water in the bathtub boiled, as if she was going to cook him inside. But after a short time, she realized how difficult it was to transport gallons of boiled water from one place to another to keep that damn tub hot. It had taken forever to light the fire in the fireplace. She had never done it, and ended up asking for help from one of the girls in the mansion, who very kindly undertook to light it for her.

She prepared the towels, and sat by the fire waiting for her Lord to deign to appear. Meanwhile, she was forced to reheat the water several times and being subjected to that humid and penetrating heat, she discovered that her own clothes were sticking on her body, full of sweat. Probably she would also need a bath after that.

When she heard his boots bouncing on the wood of the hall she knew he had finally arrived. Silently, she heard the squeaking of the bedroom door and again the characteristic sound of his soles running down the stretch that separated them to the bathroom door.

Vegeta was dressed in a dark blue suit, which in the warm light of the candles and the fire that burned at her feet seemed the most intense black she had ever seen. He had chosen a white shirt, as always, and as soon as he entered, he got rid of his white gloves.

A little lethargic, Bulma got up from her seat and when she started to leave the room, Vegeta stopped her with four words.

“Where are you going?”

She was petrified. Did he really intend her to bathe him? She hesitated before answering and the only thing the Count could hear was a very soft guttural sound leaving her throat.

"You didn’t think it was going to be that easy, did you?” He said amused, unbuttoning the cufflinks on his shirt. “Come on, help me. Or do I have to repeat myself?”

Without words, Bulma turned around. Not without first closing the door behind her. If she had thought that dressing him in the morning would be the most humiliating thing she could experience, she was wrong. She approached her master and began unbuttoning his shirt. He watched her closely, with the same angry look he had when he threw her to the floor at their last fencing match. She didn’t seem to have as much difficulty as the first time, her fingers moved more skillful, less inexperienced. She even seemed to have better control over her breathing, which seemed about to hyperventilate the first time. She was equally flushed, but he didn’t know exactly if he should attribute it to the embarrassment she was being subjected to or the suffocating heat of that room. Maybe the second, he thought after seeing her pearly forehead, as her porcelain hands went down to his navel.

Bulma realized that, in her hurry to finish with that task, she had forgotten to take his jacket off. And for a moment she stopped to contemplate what she had done, now that his lord had completely opened his shirt and could see his firm abs, hidden slightly by the fabric of his clothes. Vegeta looked at her, examining, as if she didn’t know what to do next.

What would she be thinking when she saw him like that? When she undressed him?

It was really the first time he wondered in another light. The first time he asked for it had been funnier than anything else. She seemed so demure, so eccentric and proud that all that had been nothing but humiliating. But deep down it was very likely that she was scheming more murky ideas than she wanted, which could also ultimately be humiliating. After all, she was a woman, and all women thought the same.

While he thought about it, his maid walked around him and took the edges of his jacket, stretching it over his broad torso and then gently removing each sleeve. After placing it rigorously on a hanger, she returned to him and in the same way took off his shirt. When she lowered the cloth, from the widest of his back, to the narrowest of his waist, she found herself spending a few seconds contemplating the muscular torso of her Lord. He had sweated a lot in his training, and his muscles were swollen after having demanded them so much. She realized that his skin was naturally quite brown, in comparison to her own. The temptation to lay her hand on him vanished when she saw him turn to look over his shoulder. He was tilting an indiscreet smile that made her blush. Her own modesty made her angry. With feigned assurance she returned to face him and with no doubt crouched in front of his pants, but this time he wouldn’t have time to tell her to retire. And with her face flushed and fierce in her eyes she pulled down her Master’s trousers.

Despite her impulse, she didn’t have the strength to lift her chin and look Vegeta in the eye. If she had, she would have found his face petrified, his eyes disheveled, his cheeks burning.

This was not what he had planned. Quickly, and before Bulma could lower his underwear, he covered his crotch and put a hand in front of her maid's face to stop her.

“I CAN DO IT!” He shouted scandalized.

“You don’t have to scream at me!” she responded equally annoyed.

Vegeta didn’t know how to answer the familiarity in which his servant was referring to him. He would have known, if he had his trousers on.

He tried to undress while remaining calm while Bulma folded his clothes behind him. He quickly climbed into the tub and tried to breathe deeply. A vein had swelled on his forehead and after resting his elbows on the cobalt edges of the bathtub, he caressed his forehead trying to calm down. He was the one who had control over the situation, he shouldn’t forget it. She was the one who should feel out of place, exposed. Not him, even if he was naked.

Bulma appeared next to him with a hot bucket and a moistened cloth, waiting for his orders. Vegeta, simulating disinterest, made a gesture with the same hand that caressed the incipient vein that crossed his forehead, trying to hide it. She began to carve his arm, from the circumference of his shoulder, slowly going down the line of his biceps. Strangely, the Count found it even more relaxing than the massage that was taking place on his forehead, and shortly after he found himself giving her room to rub his neck and back.

How long ago did his valet quit?

What a sublime combination he had found. He had trained until his limbs could barely hold and he usually took a hot bath right after, but his back had never been caressed like that before. With so much effort, unscrewing knots under the skin, caressing the damaged tissues of his whole body, wrapped in warm water. If he did it himself it wouldn’t be the same, not with his calloused hands from so much wielding his sword, no. It was the hands of a frail woman that made the difference.

Once she finished with his back, she sneaked up to continue with his chest, and Vegeta leaned back over the tub. Her uniform was wet, probably because she had moved so close to the bathtub. The fabric clung to her skin, between her perspiration, water and steam.

One of her locks caught Vegeta's attention especially. One that was born over her ear and had adhered to her cheek. It was so long that it had curled around her neck and created a heavenly path to the depth of her cleavage. One that he couldn’t see because of her demure suit, but that he had somehow managed to imagine.

She hadn’t realized the unseemly scrutiny she was being subjected to, had she done so she wouldn’t have paid so much attention to her master's pectorals. She had started by cleaning his neck and then down to his collarbone, as wide as the muscles he harbored beneath. Bulma moved her right arm in a circular way, delicately wiping every drop of sweat on her Lord. But she failed to realize that in her effort she was rocking her torso in such a suggestive way that the exhausted imagination of her Master had awakened.

He watched her move with precision from one side to the other as she touched him, while he felt that her strokes on his torso began to lower more and more until they reached the line that separated his abs, a few centimeters from his navel.

It was when he felt it.

His unseemly imagination was accelerating his blood flow for a reason. He had felt the rumble inside him, but he hadn’t paid attention to it. It must be the intense heat of the water, or the suffocation, but no. It was him. It took him a tenth of a second to withdraw his gaze from Bulma's graceful body to contemplate his own underwater and realize what really made him throb.

Alerted by his condition, he opened his eyes wide and grasped the wrist of his servant. He looked at her straight ahead and moved erratically into the tub, splashing around. She tensed and watched him in horror.

“Get out.”

He didn’t have to say more for Bulma to run out of the bathroom to leave him alone. Without understanding what was really going on. He was so quiet just a few minutes ago, as he would have been asleep all through the bath and awakened only to kick her out. And, although she was still confused, she didn’t ask herself anymore since she was sure she would not find a reasonable explanation for his behavior.

She retired to her bedroom and took a warm bath before going down to dinner, where she would have to meet him again and hopefully he will be in a better mood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that the grammatical errors were not too many to distract you from reading. I'm making a great effort to translate this story and our languages are vastly different. Anyway, thanks for reading, and thanks for the kudos.


	5. Chapter V

* * *

 

** IN YOUR HANDS **

* * *

 

Chapter

V

* * *

 

“Where do you think you are going? Sit down,” he said in a demanding tone.

It was an aggressive tone; one he had never used with her. Bulma was confused. While walking through the dining room to the kitchen where the employees were dining, Vegeta stopped her and forced her to sit next to him. So, without a word, she sat next to him just as he asked. As she was not sure what obligation he intended her to fulfill, she glanced at her master's plate.

“Do you need me to cut your meat?” She questioned trying to decipher the Count's fierce face.

“No.”

He didn’t add more to his answer, but after a few seconds that for Bulma were eternal, the Count asked for another dish for his companion. Bulma watched her dinner as if it were a riddle. There was something she wasn’t understanding and that made her uncomfortable.

She took her fork with some fear and after cutting a piece of meat she pricked it. Vegeta looked sideways at the nauseating face of his maid, as she hesitantly introduced the fork on mouth and with a frown and a strange grin chewed the flesh. Soon she realized there was nothing strange about her plate, which disturbed her even more.

As she raised her distrustful pearly gaze to Vegeta's sinister eyes, their pupils crossed, but he immediately returned to ignore her. He detested her. At that moment he was feeling how his insides were itching from just seeing her, from just breathing the smell of her damp hair close to him. He was as annoyed with her as he was with himself.

How had he betrayed himself in that way? If she had noticed his condition while she was carving his body... No, she hadn’t noticed. In any case, it couldn’t be he who had impure thoughts. She was a woman, ordinary, like any other. She must have been thinking about it from the moment she arrived at that house. Maybe she herself had wanted him to react like this... Although, how could she? If it was he who had forced her to bathe him. Or maybe she was playing prude, it wouldn’t be the first time he crossed one of that kind of woman. Why the hell was he thinking so much?!

Unfortunately for her, he was so irritated and confused that he didn’t know exactly what to do. He had forced her to sit there for the sole reason of having the power to do so. And she complied, as she should. However, seeing her there, eating with him, didn’t bring Vegeta any satisfaction. But he just didn’t have anything creepy in mind at that moment and all he could do was show her that he was above him. Always him.

Bulma could see something angry falling within her Lord. She took a sip from her glass and took the moment to look at him out of the corner of her eye. Maybe something bad had happened to him, she thought and a small smile drew on the edge of her lips. It was funny to think that not only her evil deeds could return to her.

“Is everything all right... Sir? She asked, hiding her smile.

Bulma's innocent look disgusted Vegeta. He knew that it was no more than a deliberate mask for something else. That surely, she would be plotting something, that harpy he had put into his house.

“Something should be wrong?”

“I do not know, I only asked,” she answered without neglecting her dinner.

Her languor was driving him crazy. Did she wanted to play with him?

“Women like you should think less, it's a waste of time for everyone.”

He had managed to upset her deeply with that unfortunate phrase, but she couldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her enraged, and that he ended up throwing her into the street to look for life elsewhere. So, she bit her tongue hard and gave her employer a shallow smile to finish his dinner.

“What about dessert? Carrot cake?” She asked ironically.

"I hate carrots," he replied.

At the end of dinner both of them got up and before Bulma could react, the employees of the mansion had already collected the dishes. It was already quite late so she could take the opportunity to sleep early, the next day she had to withdraw the dresses from Vegeta's tailor very early in the morning.

As she walked to the stairs, she noticed that Vegeta was walking right behind her, probably with the same idea. When she went up the ladder, she could feel the penetrating look on her back and she wondered again why he was so obfuscated. Everything had been fine during the training, he seemed amused as usual with the idea of humiliating her. And during the bath he had behaved as normal. Although she had to be sincere, she had behaving like an automaton during the whole process. She had bathed him so mechanically that she didn’t stopped to see his face at any time...

She wondered again, more curious than before. Quite intrigued by the sudden change of attitude of the count.

Could it be that Vegeta had felt somehow disturbed while she bathed him?

She suddenly thought without paying much attention to her walk.

So focused was she on finding an answer to the Count's erratic behavior that she didn’t notice how the sole of her shoe came off to meet the tread. If it hadn’t been because Vegeta had held her by her breast, she would have knocked her face with the top of the stairs. She would have considered herself very lucky, and would even have been grateful…

If only he wasn’t squeezing her breast at that moment.

Bulma looked at the abrupt grip she felt on that delicate part of her body, but stopped sensing it after a brief moment to feel the blow of the ladder when he dropped her.

“What are you doing?!” She shouted, turning around.

Her face was boiling, almost as much as Vegeta’s. But before answering, he lifted her right leg in the air, lifting her skirt in the air. Desperate, she tried to cover her virtue, and that was when she saw him take off the shoe from her foot, and then the other.

“Why are you wearing these damn things?!” He yelled loudly and went downstairs to the living room.

Bulma was perplexed, sitting on the edge of the stairs, expectant to the scene that the Count was leading. She saw him throw her shoes to the fireplace and clung to the railing.

“They're the only ones I have!”

“That's not my problem.”

He passed her without looking at her and after a few thunderous footsteps. She heard the door of his room close with a slam. If it was not enough for him to have felt her caressing his back, now he had felt her body. What a damn day.

Luckily, the next day he had planned a trip, and he had thought about taking her to take notes of his meeting, but hell with that. He had no desire to share a five-hour trip with her. Much less spend the whole day together.

Bulma had gone to sleep, but not before returning to deliberate that nefarious idea she had before stumbling. She looked at herself in the mirror of the dresser and admired her figure. She was poor but she was still beautiful. She had an enviable waist and her breasts were round and perky, how could she miss the idea that deep down he could desire her? She decided to take a breast with her hand and squeeze it lightly, wondering what the Count had felt a moment ago when he was holding her. She wondered then what perverse ideas the depraved count was thinking. Finally, she smiled before going to sleep, feeling somehow victorious.

When she awoke, Bulma discovered to her horror that the blow that her face suffered was beginning to show, and it hurt more than yesterday. The stain with irregular edges, half violet, half blue, was not at all attractive. She pouted and complained whimpering lying on her bed.

She had gotten out of bed with renewed confidence. The idea that Vegeta was disturbed by her presence had encouraged her. However, the bruise on her face, and the remindment that she didn’t had any shoes serve only to discourage her again. Anyone would think that she had been hit in the face, and she had no make-up to disguise it.

Bulma had no choice but to lift her chin and continue the day as if nothing had happened. Somehow, she would find some way to reproach her boss for what he had done to her, even if it wasn’t his intention.

When she closed the door to her bedroom, she glanced sideways at the door on the other side of the hall, the one in the Count's bedroom. She was struck by the fact that the door was completely open, so she walked over to make his bed. Surely, he had left early. She noticed immediately that several things were missing, but she didn’t pay much attention and after making the bed and picking up his dirty clothes, she went out to look for Yamcha.

Half body outside, leaning out of the kitchen window, she shouted his name and waited. Her feet were wrapped in her warmer stockings and, and without hearing an answer, she shouted again.

He appeared quickly, with the same friendly smile he always had. Bulma greeted him and opened the door for him to pass.

"I need you to do something for me, please."

She had used the seductive tone she had forgotten she had in her previous life. She put a humble bag between his hands and closed them wrapping them with hers.

Yamcha looked at the bag of coins he had and then looked at her.

“Of course, but what happened to your face?” He questioned in a horrified tone, trying to touch her.

She closed her right eye by the stinging pain caused by Yamcha's only touch and he recoiled.

"I need you to go to the tailor to look for my dresses... and there's an extra for some shoes," she answered, ignoring the question completely.

Yamcha looked down and saw Bulma's bare feet with surprise.

“What happened to your shoes?”

"They set on fire," she said. "Come on, quick. I need those shoes before someone else comes, I'm thirty-six.”

She pushed him unconscionably and closed the door behind him.

“Thank you!” Added, seeing him outside with a confused expression.

As if it wasn’t enough, she told him from inside the mansion to hurry and saw him leave a little uncomfortable, but that didn’t bother her. Then she went to Vegeta's office and knocked on the door hoping he was on the other side, ready to reprimand her for taking so long. However, no one answered her. She knocked harder the second time, but after a while she ventured to turn the knob and look inside to discover that there was no one there.

She went to the gym, where they had practiced fencing. Or rather where Vegeta had humiliated her with his impeccable fencing technique, but he wasn’t there either. Of course, she wasn’t going to go barefoot to the stables to check if he was riding any of his horses, so she asked one of the ostlers out the window if the Count was around.

"I haven’t seen him all day, ma'am," the young man replied.

Bulma wandered around the mansion, even going through rooms she hadn’t seen before. Vegeta actually had three libraries, and at least seven guest rooms. Three living rooms on the first floor, two of them with pianos. Below were two dining rooms, one that had been used the previous night, with a table for eight people, and one that seemed ready for a crowd of at least thirty people. On the other side of the gym there was a ball room, it reminded her of the one they used in her old life when her family were hosting an event. But Vegeta didn’t seem like the wealthy gentlemen who sponsored charity parties or debutantes. And, although those rooms were impeccable, it looked like they hadn’t been used for a long time.

Maybe since his father died, she thought.

When she finally got tired of looking for him and her feet ached from so much walking on the picturesque parquet of the mansion, she began to look for the employees to find out the whereabouts of her Lord.

After thanking her, she asked her if she would have some makeup, she could borrow to cover the bruise on her face. It seemed something that nobody could stop looking at and began to irritate her. After putting on make-up, she realized that she had time for herself and went to the library, simulating disinterest. Far was her face from accompanying that thought. With pursed lips and a tight frown, she paced back and forth across the Count's vast library, after realizing there wasn’t much she could do without her shoes. She took a science book with dark cover and gold letters, delicately glanced at it to notice that she had never read it. So, after accepting that there was nothing more useful that she could do in Vegeta's absence, she sat down with the intention to read that book.

She found interesting information about the locomotives that were raging at the time, but her interest was interrupted by the sound of the front doorbell. After verifying that it was the only one near the door, she supposed that it was also her responsibility to attend the count’s visits. Despite being barefoot, she walked to the door and after opening it felt an icy breeze freezing her from tiptoe to head.

There he was, standing in front of her. With the calm and gloomy smile that she had seen in him so many times. Before feeling immobile, she noticed a slight surprise in his black eyes.

"What a delightful coincidence," he said before feeling the ardor of Bulma's slap across his cheek.

“How dare you come here!”

Black raised an eyebrow, as he caressed his cheek incredulously. But far from being obfuscated by that improper demonstration, the man smiled. He looked at her up and down and then went on.

“I didn’t know you would be here, although if I knew it, I would have come to see you earlier.”

Without Bulma been able to prevent it, Black entered Vegeta's mansion without hesitation and closed the door behind him.

“How shameless of you!” She shouted at him and tried to hit him but he, skillfully, intercepted each blow and held her by her wrists, bringing her closer to his face.

He didn’t lose the grace, wrapped in his black three-piece suit he cornered her against his broad body and close to her face he answered her in a soft voice.

“Quiet, I didn’t come to see you.”

He released her delicately and she, with her face boiling in anger, examined him.

“What do you want?”

Black clasped his hands behind his back and scanned the room.

“Where is the Count? I would like to arrange a meeting with him. I came here with the intention of proposing him an investment.

Vegeta of course wasn’t going to be stupid enough to make a deal with that infamous men after what he had done to her father. Not out of loyalty to her, but for his own survival and his fortune’s.

"He's on a trip," she said, crossing her arms.

“And when could I expect him to come back?”

“I don’t know, you should try luck another day. Or maybe never, if you ask me.”

Black looked at Bulma's feet for a moment and then raised his dark gaze to see her straight in the eye while smiling in a twisted way.

"I see..." he said, “We will not see each other another day, Bulma”

Before she could step back, Black had taken her hand to give her a delicate kiss,

“They're waiting for me.”

The disgusting gesture on Bulma's face didn’t go unnoticed by him, but he chose to ignore it and leave the mansion without saying more. He walked gracefully to his carriage, as fine as he was, and settled himself right in front of his companion.

“You shouldn’t have followed her here.”

He smiled and looked out the window.

“Do you think I'm stepping out of line?”

“I think you're obsessed.”

“Maybe…”

Meanwhile, Bulma roamed the living room in a rage. She was thinking about what he would propose to Vegeta when he arrived, since perhaps it was best to omit completely that Black had arrived at his mansion. And she wished the next time he showed up; she had the opportunity to open the door for him. And then she would tell him that her Lord didn’t want to receive him and would never have to see him again in all her life.

Or maybe she was being too optimistic. No, she definitely had to take matters into her own hands. Any business in which the Count would incur Black could lead to ruin, and she would down go with him this time. She couldn’t fall into the street so many times, so why not interfere a little? How bad could it be? She was doing him a favor after all. It wouldn’t do him any harm and Vegeta would never find out about anything. Black would be taken off and no one would know.

When afternoon arrived, Yamcha returned with Bulma's dresses and a pair of dark shoes with a small golden buckle at the sides. The heels were short and wide, and they were not the prettiest she had ever worn, but they were comfortable. The dresses on the other hand were a little more expensive than her shoes, the cotton was soft as velvet and fit her like a glove. The dark black of her skirt reminded her of the untainted fur of Storm, the steed of her Lord. And, while the length of her skirt brushed her ankles, hiding her long white legs, her neckline showed her skin in a little more suggestive way than the chaste one that she used the day before. The white apron that was placed on top completely covered her chest and hugged her waist.

She was quite pleased.

She spent the rest of the day reading books from the Count's library, without interruption. She even forgot to have dinner and at about two in the morning she went with a candle to the kitchen to get a piece of bread, still with one of those books in her hand. She read until the candle in her candelabra was completely consumed, although by that time she was already asleep.

Vegeta arrived in the afternoon of the next day and Bulma was waiting for him by the door when he arrived. However, she hadn’t woken up so long ago. She had fallen asleep late at night and the sound of her Lord's carriage had awakened her. Bulma run down the stairs and luckily, she was still wearing the drees she had worn the day before.

"Welcome, my Lord," Bulma said to him, offering a delicate reverence worthy of the high education she had received.

Vegeta looked at the disheveled hair of his employee and made a grotesque gesture.

“What happened to your head, woman?” He said walking to his office while a couple of employees unloaded the suitcases from the carriage.

Bulma ran to the nearest mirror in the hallway and, when she saw her hair in tatters, went back to her bathroom to try to look better presented. What embarrassment, she thougth.

After sitting in his chair, he placed some paper envelopes in a drawer and signed a lease that he had been reading on the way back and put it away again to take with a notary later. While reviewing some last paragraphs, one of his employees entered his office not without first announcing herself.

"This package arrived in the morning, sir," she said, servile and left it on the desk.

Vegeta watched it intrigued. It was a pretty extravagant bag and he could swear it smelled like jasmine. He took it between his hands and after examining the outside, he took the box inside and a letter fell to the ground.

_Bulma._ He read in cursive, elegant and curled letters.

At that time, Vegeta knew that that package wasn’t meant to be for him, however, he felt a deep right to interfere in the property of Bulma since she was his employee, his personal valet. He took the envelope from the floor and, after looking at the door and checking it was closed, opened it.

_I hope you can accept this token of affection._

Vegeta's face turned to stone when he read the signature on that affectionate gift.

_Baron Black._

Out of sheer instinct, and even with the letter at his fingertips, he took the cardboard lid from that box and lifted it to see the pair of shoes he had bought for her. He dropped the lid at the same time he realized what that meant. Two nights ago, he had burned his maid's shoes, that meant that hours after leaving for his trip, Black already knew it. He had to know, how else could he give her just that?

“He was here...” he muttered.

And it seemed strange to him that his employees hadn’t told him when they saw him arrive. They had never forgotten to pass a message to him, in his entire life.

Unless he had not gone there to see him, especially. Black had gone to see Bulma, and Bulma had received him without telling him.

The Count placed the box back into the bag, but did not place the envelope and preferred to keep it in his pocket, controlling the overwhelming urge to tear it to pieces. He felt profoundly ridiculous, especially because of the small box that his employees had probably already left in his bedroom. He had thought too much about the scandalous scene in which he had burned those horrendous shoes, wondering how long they had been broken and he hadn’t noticed.

He had bought her a uniform, but he forgot completely to buy her suitable shoes. He had never hired someone so significantly submerged in misery; he had never had an employee who hadn’t had any shoes.

Maybe he had felt some guilt about it, but it was the kind of thought he would never share with anyone. So, before leaving for home again, he bought a pair of shoes from Bulma that he was ready to give her that day. But of course, she was not going to need them anymore. Black had advanced nimbly, and she did too.

He wondered for a moment how such a situation would have come to his attention. Would she had told him that he himself had set them on fire in the fireplace, after throwing her on the stairs? Oh... Right, he did that too… He thrown her on the stairs. He hadn’t forgotten it. In spite of that, it didn’t seem as bad as the discovery he had just made. After all, Black didn’t enter that house since the death of his father, Count Vegeta.

Not because he had the entrance banned, or anything like that. Probably many would remember his father's wake like the last time they entered that mansion. Tarble had moved to continue his studies and Vegeta simply devoted himself to continue with all his father's business, without so much social friction as he used to. It just wasn’t his thing.

It was pleasing, however, to stop having Black's presence around him. And everyone's, really. But Black in particular was extremely irritating to Vegeta. And, if they asked him, he probably would not be able to be entirely honest about his feelings towards Black. Vegeta had felt since his adolescence, an intricate rivalry towards him. But it was strange, there was something in his presence that seemed obscene. He didn’t know how to put it in words, and he had never had the need to do so, but his presence repelled him. It was strange. He was strange. They called it eccentric, but for Vegeta he was just a weirdo. The worst was perhaps how he equated with him in all the competitions in which they participated. He was not bothered by the group of ladies who always followed him and encouraged to win, it didn’t bother him that he fit so well socially, but what really boiled his blood was that he beat him at something. Fencing, swimming, polo, rugby, whatever, they always competed until their last breath.

It was strange for him to feel like he was losing once more. There standing with a gift in hand that wasn’t for him. With another one in his room that had no reason to be. That was the sense of defeat he detested so much.

He couldn’t take it another second and walked to Bulma's room. She heard the Count's fierce steps up the steps and turned with a comb in her hand. He opened the door without asking if she was presentable, as a gentleman would. But before his servant could demand an explanation, he threw the package on the mattress of the bed that separated them.

“Is there something you would like to explain to me?”

Maybe there was a patch of opportunity in that question. He had opened the door for her to give him an explanation. Bulma took the box and opened the lid to find the shoes that Black had sent her, unfortunately she didn’t know it. Although maybe she had suspected it.

“And?”

“Are this for me?”

“I didn’t buy them.”

That confirmed her suspicions, though it didn’t explain why Vegeta was so upset.

"I didn’t buy them either," she answered softly, laying the bag on the bed.

“Then who bought them for you?”

The count leaned his shoulder on the threshold of the door and crossed his arms. Bulma had discovered that this was a very common gesture in her Lord.

What should she do? If she told him the truth, she would be forced to meet Black in that house again and she didn’t want to do it in any way.

“What is the problem? I cannot receive any gifts?”

“I couldn’t be less interested in the rubbish they give you.”

“So, what’s the problem? I have a secret admirer! This shouldn’t surprise you, I've always had them.”

“Now that you are a simple employee, do you think you can have admirers?” He said laughing and approached her taking the box in his hands. “This is your last chance, who gave you this?”

“I don’t know!”

“You are lying!” He yelled, throwing the box against the wall.

Bulma was startled when Vegeta pulled something out of his pocket.

"Your admirer," he said ironically.

She read the little letter in a second and got upset when she read the signature, and when she tried to answer something coherent, her Lord began to withdraw.

“I didn’t know, I did not know it!”

“You know what? Besides being a liar, you're a stupid wretch. Are you really going to receive gifts from the mem who is practically responsible for your father's death? You are sick?

After listening to him, in a wave of fury and pride, Bulma pulled him by the arm turning him against her.

“Did you really believe that I was going to accept it? I bought my own shoes! I do not need gifts from a miserable lord. And if you wanted me to prove it to you, you just had to ask.”

She took the shoes off the floor, including the box, the package and the letter and then went down the stairs and threw everything in the fireplace.

"You don’t have to prove anything to me, woman," he said, perfectly disguising the surprise. “But if someone enters this house, you'd better tell me before I find out about it from someone else. This is your first and only warning. Next time you'll have to seek asylum at your friend Black's house.

“Friend?” She bellowed furiously.

Her long straight hair was loose, messy, and she was so congested with indignation that she caressed her forehead trying to calm down. When she ran her bangs aside, Vegeta could clearly see the bruise Bulma had by the eye. He knew that he had done that to her and his stomach turned up when he saw himself in evidence.

"Go back to your work," he said a little more calmly.

She looked at him perplexed.

“Do something damn, but do it now!”

She mumbled an unintelligible phrase and retreated to do anything, out of sight of her Lord. Vegeta went to his room and put the box with the shoes he had bought at the bottom of a closet. She would never have to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I have improved my pronouns. Thanks for the kudos!


	6. Chapter VI

* * *

** IN YOUR HANDS **

* * *

 

Chapter

VI

* * *

 

The most ambiguous task she had received in her entire life was to ‘ _do something, damn it, but now_ ’. And she didn’t know what to do if she clearly couldn’t be near Vegeta at the time, so she went to the library again, which was the place she felt most comfortable in the whole house and decided to sort books by subject. If the Count was still upset later, she would arrange them in alphabetical order.

From the library she could clearly see the patio, and in it Yamcha trying not to drive Storm crazy. She found herself smiling, then laugh and tried to return to her tasks, but Yamcha was simply too funny to ignore. She hoped Vegeta wouldn’t force her to dine with him, surrounded by the most uncomfortable and boring silence. The previous night she had barely bitten a loaf of bread and that morning she hadn’t even appeared at breakfast, so if she could, she would try to have a cup of tea with Yamcha to distract herself, as at times she felt terribly locked in that gigantic mansion.

It did not take her long to reorganize the library, and although she didn’t feel very accomplished, went down the servants' stairs to the kitchen and went out into the yard to look for the ostler. She found him in the stables, combing the neat braid of a thoroughbred equine.

"Oh, Bulma," he said when he noticed her presence.

It was nice to always meet his smiling face, in that place that caused her so many calvaries.

"I was wondering if you'd like to have a cup of tea with me," she said politely.

He wasn’t used to Bulma's fine ways, and he smiled sadly thinking that he probably wouldn’t have the proper manners to have a tea meeting with her.

“Of course, I have some time to spear...”

“Great, I'll go prepare it.”

The Count saw her strutting outside, through the window of his office. He saw her walk calmly to the stables and then return. As he took a sip of his tea, he saw the stable boy going to the kitchen and laughed. At least Black had a title. But that's how women were, he thought. All were equally as easy.

Bulma poured him a cup and cut some bread for his partner, and a fleeting memory of wide parties came to mind. She looked at Yamcha with some newfound affection and realized the stark comparison of empty and wealthy friendships, with his significant and obvious poverty. It was strange for her to discover how grateful she was to know what friends were like, despite the terrible situation she was living. But she was grateful. She had never appreciated the true value of the food she held with one hand and the roof that covered her head at night. Even how difficult it had been for her not to have shoes for a day.

She should be careful not to anger Vegeta any more or she would end up on the streets again.

"It's my first tea meeting," her companion said with a sincere smile.

She laughed, her meeting was so poor that it was embarrassing, but at the same time it was extremely significant.

“I needed to talk to someone, and you're the only one I know here.”

“You're spending a lot of time with the Count, aren’t you? I hope he’s not making you work too much.”

She wasn’t sure if she should share with him the especial tasks that Vegeta had entrusted to her to do. Anyone who knew that she had undressed him more than once would be scandalized, and from what little she knew Yamcha, he might be able to beat himself to restore her honor. A slight blush appeared on her cheeks, but Bulma looked down quickly, hoping he wouldn’t notice the embarrassment her own thoughts were causing her. So, with her eyes fixed on her teacup, the young man looked at the bruise on Bulma's face again.

"Are you going to tell me what happened to your face?”

In his tone she found a hint of recrimination, as if he suspected someone had done it. How could he suspect the Count? She knew that it hadn’t been intentional. Yes, he was an imbecile to drop her like that, but it was only because he felt overwhelmed by the contact of her suggestive bust. It was logical that happened to him, that could happen to anyone who touched her.

"It wasn’t Vegeta," she answered and corrected herself quickly. “I mean, the Count.”

“You get along well?” questioned by the apparent familiarity between both.

“I don’t know if that is the best way to describe our employment relationship.”

"He can be a jerk," he answered in a whisper and she laughed.

“Definitely, and you, how did you get a job here?”

“My father left me here as a child, when Vegeta's grandfather was in charge of everything. He left me here and left. Since then he took care of me and teach me everything I know, I think that's the only reason why I haven’t been fired yet. Vegeta had great respect for his grandfather. He died when he was young.”

“And his parents?”

“Vegeta's father, also called that. Not only were they similar in appearance, they were also similar in their personality, but Vegeta Jr. is much less... sociable than his father was.”

"I already realized that," she replied, her spoon circling in her tea. “I had noticed it in the position of the furniture in the living rooms, they were so ingrained to each specific position, the cushions so neatly arranged, as if no one ever had sat on them. The floor without scratches of high heels, without the touch of some dance... When was the last social gathering that was made in this mansion?”

Yamcha made a funny expression, as if he had been hit by that question and had to make a huge mental step back to give her an answer.

“I think since the funeral of his father.”

That didn’t give her any satisfaction. The connection between the two events seemed very significant to her and she felt a deep discomfort when imagining what he would have felt like to withdraw from all social events.

She remembered it then, when she met him that night in her previous life. He was standing alone on the balcony, and now she realized how strange it was that a man like him was shying away from the event altogether. She remembered seeing him with his brother, arguing about something that now seemed interesting to her but that at that moment she couldn’t have been less interested. And finally, when he invited her to dance and she snubbed him in front of everyone, it was more than enough for both of them to leave.

It was also strange that he hadn’t seen his brother peek into the mansion since she had arrived. Although her own sister had moved abroad and it was rare the occasion on which she received a letter from her, and it was totally... normal. Maybe they were similar in that way.

“I suppose he's the lonely type.”

“It's a kind way to say it.”

Bulma began to think, very much in spite of the drama of the infamous shoes, that she would have to approach Vegeta and give him an explanation. She had lied to him for her selfishness, holding the collapsed idea that she had the power to deny Black a house that was not hers.

After having tea with Yamcha, she said goodbye with the promise that they would leave some night with the group of employees of the house, as they used to. Bulma went to her boss's office knowing that he would be there. She knocked on the door, announced herself and waited to be let through, but that wasn’t the answer she received.

“What do you want?” Was heard from the other side of the door.

“I want to talk to you; it will only take a moment.”

“I'm busy.”

“It's only a second!”

“What part of _I’m busy_ did you not understand?”

It was very difficult to apologize to him when he behaved like a jerk, and it was harder for her to continue standing there without insulting him for treating her like the employee she was.

She had no contemplation and took the doorknob and entered. Vegeta looked up and raised an eyebrow without moving an inch of his seat. She entered without invitation and closed the door behind her.

“I'm only going to take a minute of your time and you don’t have to tell me anything, just listen to me. Yes, Black came yesterday, I received him and he was looking for you. He said he had an offer to make, an investment, or something like that. I hit him in the face and told him you were one a travel and ask him never to return. I thought...” She sighed and looked at the ceiling searching for the precise words to continue, "I thought that if I didn’t tell you he had come… there would be no need to have a meeting and I wouldn’t have to see him around again. I... I exceeded my attributions, I'm sorry.”

Without waiting for an answer, as she had said upon entering, she retired after making a short bow for her Lord. The Count remained silent, deliberating Bulma’s words, who, to his surprise, sounded sincere. The reasons she had given him seemed valid, and quite desperate. Of course, there wouldn’t be sufficient reason to make him give up the idea of burying the shoes he had bought her somewhere, but to appease the anger that armored within him. He understood perfectly that Bulma could be afraid to see him again if he decided to accept that business, although Black was not the best reference.

Did she say she had slapped him? He wondered and a twisted smile lit up his face. She was quite improper.

However, despite Bulma's apparent desire not to see him again, Vegeta took a letter paper and drafted an invitation. He had to make sure that his employee's version was real and not a rushed invention to secure a place in that house. And he had to be completely sure that Bulma would have no chance to send a message to him and tell him his plans. He was going to have to keep her busy. After writing his invitation and sealing it, he looked for one of his employees to deliver it as soon as possible. Then he found Bulma reading a book and without saying anything he walked up to her and took it from her hands. She looked at him without understanding what was pressing him, but then he returned it and watched her with a raised eyebrow.

“Isn’t it too advanced for a woman to read?”

Of course, that kind of comments to his maid revolved her to the last of her organs, but she had to maintain a certain profile and class, so after digesting it slowly she looked into his eyes to answer him. Vegeta had already noticed how her forehead furrowed when he denigrated her based on her gender and he found it funny. He had also seen how a very small vein throbbed too, over her right eye, over the bruise.

“It turns out that I have read very complex books since childhood. I have a certain facility to understand them. I could even write one if I wanted to.”

"Nobody would buy it," he answered, sitting in a nearby chair.

“I would use a male pseudonym, men are so stupid that they would fall without hesitation.”

After releasing that last sentence, she felt a little regretful. Indirectly she had said he was stupid, but fortunately he did seem to have taken it for granted. He was too quiet for her liking, so she closed the book in her hands and looked at him expectantly, since he seemed to have something to tell her.

“If what you said earlier is true...”

“It is.”

“I'm not stupid enough to believe you without regard. Women are liars by nature. And you already showed it when I confronted you about it.”

“But I thought…”

“Let me finish.”

Bulma crossed her arms.

"I just sent an invitation to Black to discuss this business you told me about. And I do not want you to move from here until I see him. You're not going to get out of my sight because I have to make sure you're not going to warn him, that you're not going to run to tell your admirer your version of what happened. Now you're going to read me a book, because that's what you're here for, it's your job. Then you will go to serve me dinner and you will have dinner with me, where I can see you. Then you will go to sleep and I will close the door of your bedroom and your window with a key. If Black answers, he'll probably come tomorrow and you will not have to see him, so I'll check how much of what you say is true.

"As long as I don’t have to see him, you can tie me to the bed if it pleases you.”

A twisted image struck both of their minds for a moment and they had to look away avoiding to show  evidence of the impropriety of their thoughts. Did she really just have to choose those words?

Vegeta used the convenient excuse to clear his throat, while Bulma falsely resumed the task of reading that book that had recently been removed from her hands. But the image was difficult to digest, especially for the Count.

There was no doubt that he still felt uneasy about her presence. He had hired her firmly believing that he wouldn’t endure more than twelve hours in his company and that, having crossed a certain limit of decorum, she would end up resigning. However, he still felt surprised by her perseverance and the tolerance she had for his humiliations. In a way, he was beginning to feel that he had discovered someone as, or even more obstinately than himself. She was so motivated by her salary that she would support anything in order to charge her fortnight. And Vegeta was beginning to run out of resources to annoy her, not that he was not creative, but he had already drawn several boundary lines that Bulma had finished crossing gracefully. More or less.

“You only hit him once?” He asked, imagining the scene.

It would have been fun to be present to observe him, but if he had been in her place he would surely have returned him in a bag to his carriage, after what he did to her.

“I tried to hit him with my fists closed, but he took me by the wrists.”

Vegeta muttered something between his teeth, and his servant saw clearly how the corner of his lips arched in a half smile. The idea that Bulma was so bold as to hit a gentleman being no more than a maid was funny to him, and at the same time he loved to think of someone hitting Black.

"Maybe I should teach you self-defense," he said, still smiling.

"I'm very good at hitting men with pans," she added proudly.

"What did the poor bastard do for you to hit him with a frying pan?"

Doubting slightly on her answer, she ended up accepting that she couldn’t lie to Vegeta again. Although that would cost her to be hand over to the authorities for having left Mr. Harris unconscious on the kitchen floor of his own home.

“Only if you promise not to tell anyone...”

“Come’on, woman. Did you kill him?”

Internally hesitated at the time to ask that question, his funny grim disappear. Maybe Bulma had more guts than he had believed.

“I did not! He... well, he was breathing when I left.”

Vegeta was completely motionless, listening intently to Bulma's words. She took a breath and then continue as if she were preparing to finally face what she had done.

“Mr. Harris hired me, shortly before I came to work for you... At first, he was very nice but then... Then he got drunk and told me how satisfied he was to have me working for him. To have _Bulma Briefs_ in his kitchen, making dinner for him. He made me understand that he would do with me what he pleased and that no one would believe me if I denounced him, that I was so poor that he would accuse me of trying to extort him for money, that he had a good reputation and I, on the other hand... To make the story short, before he could do something, I hit him in the face with a pan and I ran through the yard. I was waiting for them to come for me, the police… He knew perfectly well who I was, but so far, that hasn’t happened. I guess he never went to the police…”

“And what would he say? That a skinny girl hit him and left without taking anything? Not to mention the fact that he was drunk.”

“I guess he didn’t have much against me.”

“You did well, maybe if I teach you the basics one day you can give Black more than a slap on the face.”

“Really?”

“All depends on what Black says tomorrow. If I find out that you were lying… Then you will have to pick up your things and pray for not ending up at the house of another Harris.”

"Then you better clear your schedule because we're going to learn some self-defense, Count Ouji. Now, what book would you like us to read?”

As he had promised, that night Vegeta ended up locking Bulma in her own room. She just asked him to let her take one more book to read before going to sleep. His employee was an avid reader of the most boring books he had ever seen.

The relaxed attitude of Bulma, to Vegeta was conveying the certainty that she had not lied to him. Which was strange and quite new. He had always had the internalized idea that women were excellent liars by nature, that was what his mother had shown him. And if she was, why wouldn’t everyone else be a liar like her?

The next morning, a young employee informed Vegeta that a response had arrived from Black, who was pleased to have been invited to the Count's mansion and would be at his door at two in the afternoon. Bulma meanwhile had received her breakfast in her room, and although it bothered her because she gave the impression of being the mistress of her Lord, she let herself be served without many protests. After all, Vegeta's employees were not allowed to discuss what happened inside the mansion on the outside.

When Black had finally arrived at the Count's mansion, two young ladies escorted him to one of the living rooms in which Vegeta held the few meetings he hosted. Upon entering, the Count noticed that Black had brought with him a company. It was a young man of thin build and gray hair, he tried to hide his surprise at seeing his ill face, invited them to sit and then offered them a drink. Black accepted, the other did not. While serving an amber drink in a short glass, Vegeta thought of the word that would describe the condition of that man who accompanied Black. He held out his glass and remembered, probably he was albino. He sat on a large dark sofa and reclined, but not before tasting the fine whiskey he had served.

“Long time without seeing you, Baron. Since the debutants' dance, if I remember correctly," he smiled and the Count could feel the pretense of that detestable gesture directly. He wanted to remind him of the embarrassing way he had retired.

“Excuse my manners, he's an old friend and partner in some business,” he introduced him by touching his shoulder with confidence. The other, however, didn’t seem very pleased to be there.

“May I introduce you to Viscount Zamasu. How many years has passed since you had so many nobles gathered in your house, Vegeta?”

“Why do not we stop introductions and get down to business, Black? A few days ago, you came and I understand you had a very dramatic conversation with one of my employees.”

“You have quite a good taste in maids.”

Vegeta sensed an irritated look from the emaciated Viscount, so he felt the need to dig deeper into the subject to see what he would get from that meeting.

"He doesn’t have any marks on his face, so I guess she doesn’t hit very hard.”

“She hit you?” His partner rebuked him.

“She took me by surprise.”

The Baron had confirmed what Bulma told him, but what struck him most was the outrage on Zamasu's face.

"The blows that came after you did see them coming," Vegeta said, tilting an obvious smile.

“I see that Bulma didn’t keep the details to herself,” he said animatedly. “Maybe I should open a job vacancy, you know... Maybe one day I'll take her and get married. That would make me Duke and she Duchess, right? It's too interesting not to think twice.”

“Did you come to harass my employee or to make me a business offer?”

“I don’t see why I cannot use my time doing both, where did you lock her now?” He questioned, looking into the nearest corridors. Leaning as if he was looking for her.

"You're going to have to work hard, Black. She told you that you to never return at the risk of being fired. Oh... and your gift...” He raised his glass as if was making a toast. “Thank you, it heated the fireplace in the hall very well, better than wood.”

“By the way, why was she barefoot? I didn’t have time to ask.”

“That is not your problem.”

“And why does she only wears make up over her right eye? I hope you haven’t hit her, Vegeta. It wouldn’t look good on a gentleman.”

“Of course I didn’t, what do you take me for?”

“Then I suppose Bulma is very clumsy, she loses her own shoes and then hits her face. What a young girl… someone should take better care of her.”

“Can we talk about your business proposal or will we continue talking about your apparent obsession with my employee? She can leave with you when she wants, do you know that right?”

“You're right, where are my manners? Zamasu and I have a contact in the state of Cook, in Naperville. He has an invention that can revolutionize transport as we know it, we are looking for investors. For that we will travel next friday so that everyone can get to know it.”

“You lost a lot of credibility in the last months...”

“That's why the travel expenses will be fully covered by us. It's two days of traveling by train.”

“What is it exactly?”

“Imagine not having to depend on a horse to pull your carriage. The animals die, they get tired. This doesn’t.”

Even if he knew that Black had brought Bulma to absolute misery, it didn’t seem like a waste of time if the expenses were borne by that pair. And honestly, the idea sounded interesting. Vegeta spent so much time alone, without engaging in social events, that his fortune had begun a slow decline in recent years. That change wasn’t enough to ruin his family, but if he didn’t do something to improve the situation, he would soon begin to worry more about it than about clause twenty-six of his father's will.

“You will have an answer by tomorrow.”

“Excellent.”

Black and Zamasu stood up and, before the Baron could make further advances on his valet, he escorted them to the exit.

Finally, Bulma must have been very satisfied, still locked in her room as Black had assumed. She had told him the truth, maybe her reasons for lying were also sincere. Maybe she didn’t want to see Black again in the resto of her life.

He went up the stairs and opened the bedroom door, but this time he knocked on the door.

"Go ahead," Bulma told him, she was waiting for him. She was on the bed, reading a book still wearing her sleepwear. He could see the white skin of her bare feet, to her slightly rosy knees. He tried to hide the surprise and calmly closed his eyes as he squeezed the knob of the door tightly.

“You are supposed to let a gentleman in when you are presentable.”

Bulma took the skirt of her pajamas and covered her legs, making a deliberately irritated gesture.

"As if I hadn’t seen you naked," she answered without neglecting his reading. “How did it go with Black?”

The irritated vein that the Count had tried to calm during the bath returned. Just as incipient as annoying. Bulma's arrogant attitude was suffocating, so confident of the outcome of his meeting. But if she wanted to make a fool of him, it would be very hard.

Just as Vegeta began to feel a hint of empathy for her, Bulma managed to infuriate him in such a way that his brain worked out the worst situations in which he could get Bulma.

“Prepare your things, woman. You will accompany me to a trip with Black.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was particularly difficult to translate and I hope I didn't do too bad of a job. Thanks for the kudos!


	7. Chapter VII

* * *

** IN YOUR HANDS **

* * *

 

Chapter

VII

* * *

 

 

She couldn’t even control the aberrant cravings she had for throwing the book she had in her hands, straight into his face. Right in the middle of that arrogant smirk, that grimace of cynical fun, that pose of self-sufficiency. Of course, he dodged it with enviable ease and saw the book fall in the middle of the corridor.

He knew he was going to drive her crazy, maybe he had reached the moment when she finally gave up. And Bulma saw that explicit challenge in the reflection of his nocturnal eyes. She already knew, she had known it for a long time now. She was aware that Vegeta would only make her miserable again and again until her pride forced her to go to the street with only her clothes on.

She had already shouted at him that he was a wretch, she had questioned him between shouts why he would do that to her. She had refused later, but he repeated those defiant words he had told her several times.

“If you do not do it, you're fired.”

Bulma, still slightly dressed in her pajamas, looked at him from across the room. She was standing on the mattress, her face terribly red, her teeth clenched. But she knew she couldn’t give him that satisfaction, neither Vegeta nor Black.

"Okay," she said with a frown and to the Conde's surprise, she pointed him before continuing. “But first I want you to keep your word.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I want a self-defense class.”

“Are you going to hit Black again?”

“Are you going to stop me?”

He smiled.

“It is something I would like to witness. Get ready, I want you in the gym in twenty minutes,” was the last thing he said before closing the bedroom door.

Sadly, Bulma fell on the mattress, frustrated by how she had wasted the subtlety of her legs. Her renewed confidence hadn’t been enough to bother Vegeta, but had overcome the specter to the other extreme, and had only managed to infuriate him. It seemed that the Count wouldn’t be uncomfortable for her benefit, leaving her alone, but that he would punish her every time she displayed her attributes. What was she supposed to do then? At least he had agreed to give her a class, and if Black came up to her one more time, he wouldn’t know what hit him.

The Count had thought about his fencing match, Bulma could barely get in position, much less get a stroke of her foil without falling to the ground. And after the disgusting story she had told him about this Harris man, he knew that his employee would need a couple of tools to get rid of the depraved ones. And, if that included Black, much better.

When Bulma arrived, dressed in her maid clothes, she saw Vegeta standing on a thin mattress that he had placed on top of the gym floor. He had only removed his shoes, and was waiting for her with an indecipherable expression. He wasn’t smiling sideways, as always, nor was he upset. He had naturally frowned; it was simply his expression. He was focused, serious.

“Should we put on something more appropriate?”

"No."

He crossed his arms as he looked directly into her eyes.

“If you put something in which you can move better, you will not know what to do in a dangerous situation. Let's say you go to the market, and on the way a someone attacks you. You wouldn’t be wearing something comfortable; you would wear what you are wearing now.”

"It's true," Bulma replied, and recalled the group of drunken men who had scared her a few days ago.

"Come on, stand in front of me."

She walked to a position less than three feet away from Vegeta.

"Now show me how you hit Black."

She clenched her fists tightly and throwed a punch to him, which was easily intercepted by Vegeta. Then, immediately, she tried to do the same with her other fist. Both pale wrists were tight between the two of them, captured by the Count.

“That's how he immobilized you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, start by raising your elbows.”

“Like this?”

“Yes. Now rotate your wrists inwards and try to lower your hands.”

Bulma was frowning, absolutely focused on following Vegeta's precise instructions. And so, as he said, she rotated her wrists, pushed her hands down and managed to free herself from the grip of Vegeta's firm hands. The Count observed his student's lit face and found it funny. But he had to wake her up from that naive trance.

“What are you doing?”

“What?” She said confused.

“Run, I'm going to attack you.”

She quickly understood that Vegeta would interpret an attack completely and she turned on her heels trying to flee, but he caught her effortlessly from her back. He ran his forearm under her chin and caught her in a guillotine. With one hand linked to his wrist he dragged her until she was stuck to his chest. Bulma instinctively brought her hands to the prison of Vegeta's biceps in which she was trapped, but was immovable. Vegeta, with his face pressed to her ear, spoke to her with the same iron expression that had accompanied him since they had begun.

“If I put more pressure on you, I will leave you with no air and you will lose consciousness, if I continue after that you will die. What do you think you can do to get out of here?”

“Can I scratch your face?”

“That will only make me angry and I’ll press harder. Come on, woman, what are you going to do?”

“I do not know!”

“Open your legs.”

“What!?”

“Listen to me, separate your legs, try to feel with your right leg mine.”

Vegeta could feel her slim legs moving without precision under her skirt until she finally stepped on him.

“Sorry…”

“Shut it. Now try to put that foot behind mine… That's it… That will make me lose stability. Now I want you to use all your strength to turn your torso to the right, use your foot as the axis.”

She tried to do it, but his strong hug stopped her.

“You have to throw me to the ground with this technique, or I'm going to suffocate you for real."

“Don’t you dare!”

“Then don’t waste my time. Defeat me, woman, or I will.”

Bulma felt the raw pain of the closing grip on her throat and a dry sound came out of her mouth. He was really going to do it; he was going to leave her with no air until she fainted. He was mad! She buried her nails in his arm and used all her strength to lock her knee with his, turning instead. She felt relieved as the knot loosed over her throat and saw Vegeta's body fall to the mattress. She coughed and hugged her neck with one hand, but when she looked at the Count on the floor she knew it wasn’t over. What else did he wanted to do? Leaning on his elbows, he watched her.

“Why are you standing there?” He grabbed her ankle and pulled hard, and before she could do anything he had already put on his body over hers.

“What are you doing?!”

The Count couldn’t ignore the intense color of his servant's cheeks while he was pressing on her torso. He had discarded her braid and messy turquoise strands crossed her face. Maybe the blush was due to the few seconds that he left her without air, but that didn’t explain the way she was looking at him. It wasn’t fear, he knew it.

She didn’t move with terror as if she thought he was really going to do something bad to her. She was inert, expectant of his intentions. As if she hadn’t realized how seriously Vegeta had taken that task.

“What do you think I'm doing?” He questioned surprised.

“No… I don’t know.”

His face was inches away, so much so that he could feel the soft air she exhaled in each breath. She could feel how he had separated her legs, so nimbly that she hadn’t noticed. Instinctively she placed her delicate snowy hands on the Count's abdomen and waited for him to respond.

"If someone attacks you with the intention of raping you, you have to learn to get out of this situation," he said calmly, with a certain gentleness that she had just met.

He watched Bulma's poor attempt to separate their bodies and turned his petrified gaze over his eyes.

“Do you really believe that will stop me?”

Bulma's heart was pounding her ribs, while she watched with rigorous attention as the Count stood firmly on his knees, still wrapped in the legs of his maid.

“Now, when I lean on to you, I want you to wrap your legs around my waist.”

“What?!” She questioned him furiously, trying to stand on her elbows.

This time, Vegeta noticed the exact second in which Bulma's face became more vermilion than ever, and he couldn’t help noticing that her chest was beginning to look just as red. She watched Vegeta's evil, lopsided smile appear once more and felt her heart rumble inside her chest.

"I'm not going to do anything to you," he said calmly and returned to her torso, his palms resting against Bulma's thin arms. “Do not blush, I don’t take women like this...”

“I'm not blushing!” She bellowed, squeezing Vegeta's suit.

She heard the Count's soft laugh, like a purr impregnated with evil. It was the first time she heard him laughing like that. The first time she heard a laugh from him at all.

“Do what I say. Surround my waist with your legs.”

She refused to look at him while doing it. She observed the ceiling with great attention and with a certain fury that didn’t bother to disguise. Bulma's skirt slipped leaving her underwear uncovered. He entwined her feet but Vegeta wasn’t satisfied and stirred over her.

“Firmly.”

“It's firm!”

"Put pressure on this muscle."

He cupped his hand from under his employee's skirt and gently pressed her inner thigh, but at the moment he did it, he felt Bulma's firm slap across his face. He turned to face her, removing his hand from her leg. He was enraged.

“I'm teaching you, damn it!”

“Then don’t neglect yourself!”

In a way, she was right, but now he felt an incredible desire to show her how much he could immobilize her if he really wanted to.

"Now! Press them," he asked in a growl and felt the pressure of her slender legs on his waist. “Now stretch them hard.”

In doing so, Vegeta's torso automatically separated from hers.

“Now use your foot to prevent me from approaching you, putting it on my hip.”

Bulma tried to fix her skirt a little while following the instructions. Then Vegeta told her to place her arm firmly on his knee, and before she could say it, she had taken him off completely.

“Once you split up, you want to disorient him. You are too easy to catch.”

The Count was kneeling on the mattress in front of her, his suit was quite a mess. His shirt buttons were open and his pants were covered in dust. Bulma looked at him from the other side, only two feet away. With her hair done in tatters and the layers of her lack disordered.

“What you did with Harris was perfect, but if you don’t have anything to hit his head with, you must remember the key points. Use your outstretched hand," he said, making a slight demonstration with her face, "And hit him over the ear. You will leave him stunned.”

“You can also hit him in the nose, it's quite painful. If not, remember… A quick blow to the throat and you will leave him without air.”

Gracefully watched as she nodded after each explanation and, when he found her distracted enough, he took her again from one leg and dragged her on the floor. Bulma tried to turn around to get away from him, but it had been impossible and that frustrated her. Vegeta had her by the neck in a guillotine again and had wrapped one of his legs around her. He had practically taken every inch of her body. Bulma turned slightly and saw his twisted smile. Trapped against his chest she felt a stifling burning in her chest and hoped he couldn’t feel the embarrassing heartbeat of her pulse.

“And now how…”

“Uhmm…”

Vegeta and Bulma opened their eyes with disgust when feeling like a third in the room cleared his throat.

“Excuse me, my Lord… You asked me to remind you of your four o'clock appointment.”

The couple looked at the doorway to discover a young maid with a boiling face, looking at the ground with her hands trapped in a nervous movement. The Count quickly got up from the floor, thanked his employee and she left as quietly as she had entered. And probably quicker.

He adjusted his suit, quite embarrassed. Maybe he had overstepped a bit. But he had only taught her something essential. How was he going to teach her to free herself from something like that without showing it to her? There was no way... However, in the middle of the training something in his intentions had changed and perhaps that was what had him most embarrassed. But that wasn’t his main intention. It couldn’t be _that_. He was sincere if he said that the best thing for her was to know how to defend herself if she were to be involved in a dangerous situation. He wasn’t sure that this idea remained unbroken in his mind after he had laid her on the ground, much less after feeling her legs.

"Let me fix that," she told him, adjusting the ruffles of his shirt.

He didn’t move from his spot, and he let himself perish. It wasn’t the first time she volunteered to do something for him, after all she was still his valet and that was what she was supposed to do. Despite this, her attitude seemed strange to him. He watched her adjusting with a special smile the ornaments of his chest and noticed that that different blush had not yet vanished from her cheeks. He passed the indecent jet of his eyes through her lips and saw a slight curve. She was smiling.

“Since when are you so kind?”

“You speak like I'm an ill-mannered person. I am always kind.”

The smile was immediately erased, replaced by a very obvious gesture of anger. She ended up in an untidy manner and did not offer to button his shirt.

“Can I ask for an advance?”, she asked all of the sudden.

“I gave you an advance when you arrived.”

“Yes, and I had to spend almost everything in the shoes that you decided to incinerate, remember?”

“What are you going to do with that money?”

It didn’t really correspond to him to know the purpose she would give to her salary. It was something he had never thought about questioning any other of his employees. But the question had left his lips even before he stopped to think about it. Her sudden need was curious.

“I want to buy some dresses. I don’t want to travel with this maid's clothes, it would be humiliating.”

He didn’t think too much about it, he was not the kind of person to make a sneak when an employee asked for it, so he told Bulma to follow him and on the way to the door he finished buttoning his shirt.

She accompanied him to his office. He took some coins from the first drawer of his desk and gave them to her without counting it.

“Are you going to buy something to impress your admirer?”

Bulma looked at him tilting her face with a funny expression, still standing in front of him. She brought her hands to her back holding the lead, and arched with a flirtatious and amused expression.

“It will give him a heart attack to see me and know that he cannot have me.”

He crossed his arms and leaned on the desk.

"Did you learn enough to avoid being abducted? Although maybe he would do me a favor.”

"Anyway, I already knew a couple of techniques to defend myself and I'm surprised you didn’t mention them.”

“Which are...”

“Well… hitting on the noble parts...”

“I'd have you on your back before you could try...”

Bulma had found something different in the air. A tone that made her breathing quicken, even if she was just there, standing, holding a conversation. Maybe it was Vegeta's malevolent smile, or the fact that they had been both curled up on the floor a moment ago.

She was behaving more flirtatious than at any time, but all previous times had occurred in more fun social contexts. In front of her friends, with boys who wanted her. But she had never been so bold in her movements when alone with a gentleman. It felt almost like a game and she could sense that the Count was participating in it. She saw it in the way he looked at her with his cloudy eyes, in how his pupils crossed her lips and traced a neat path to his celestial eyes.

He was also becoming more aware of it. From the uncomfortable encounter he had with himself in the bathroom, until the last moment he was hugging her from behind. Breathing the perfume of her long hair and contemplating the pink tone of her chest. He felt it when he ran his hand down Bulma's thigh and squeezed her soft skin. He had even felt it when she hit him, which was strange.

It excited him a little, yes. He had to accept that.

Vegeta opened his mouth to say something and interrupt the strange silence that enveloped them, but the words disappeared when he saw her make the same attempt. He fixed his gaze on her pink lips alf opened and a natural inclination to kiss her began to urge him. He leaned subtly toward her and noticed in her calm crystalline gaze that she couldn’t take her eyes from his lips either.

He was going to kiss her and she knew it.

The squeaking of the door behind them interrupted all the tortuous process they were both going through. And, in panic, Bulma turned to the shelf to her left and pretended to be looking for something. On the other hand, the Count put a hand to the back of his neck and turned his gaze to the window. The curtains were wide open, as always, but he had completely forgotten. Anyone could have seen them.

“This... Yes, good. Goodbye…”

She passed by the young man who has just entered the office and took a book from the shelf that was not even in her language. He looked at her sideways, looked at his brother and, as if a memory had hit him, he went back to Bulma but all he could see was how she closed the door. He pointed incredulously in her direction and then returned to his brother.

“Was she?...” He began without believing what he had seen. “Is she who I think she is?”

Vegeta put his hand over his face and stroked his forehead firmly. Of all the people who could find him, why did it had to be Tarble?

“Yes, it was her. Now forget it.”

"Well, I see that you like rejection, brother," he said amusingly recalling the dance’s disaster.

“Don’t be stupid.”

“What can I say, I'm surprised.”

Tarble took a seat in front of the desk. Vegeta turned to him with a bitter face, to find the euphoric of his young brother.

“Can I know why you came here?”

“I think I owe you an apology for the interruption. I guess I'm used to booking that kind of activities for the bedroom, but I promise to knock on the door next time.”

"Tarble, if you keep insisting about it, I swear I'll beat you so hard that I'll make your mother's corpse cry.”

“How creative of you.”

The Count walked to the window and looked at his patio. With a troubled mind he remembered that he was about to kiss Bulma and internally lamented himself. What was he doing?

“I came because I already confirmed your attendance to the masquerade.”

“Have you confirmed my date?” He looked at him barely over his shoulder.

“Is there any problem about it?”

He had something terrible on his hands when he told Tarble that he would bring a companion and now he wasn’t so sure if it was a good idea. Maybe it was too much, he had exceeded himself. He was shocked by the latest events and needed a few minutes alone.

“Don't tell me you're not going to take her.”

"I shouldn’t."

There was a bitterness in his tone.

“Well, I've already ordered your suit and masks. Still, you have to go, and your birthday is coming soon. You cannot continue postponing this. You know what will happen if you do not find someone.”

“How can I forget it if you constantly remind it to me?

“It's not like we see each other so often. Or as if you received me every time I come. If we are going to the case, it is not as if it had served as something.”

“Well… you also reproach me for being busy. Why do I need a wife when I can have you complaining about me all day long?”

"You're more animated than usual, Vegeta," he said with a knowing smile. “You know it wouldn’t be a bad idea for you to marry that girl, you would be Duke and you would comply with the clause. I know, it's unorthodox because she's apparently your employee, but that would save you from all social events and the task of seduce another poor victim. Besides, it's not like you care about your reputation, I don’t see why you'd care about hers.”

“Tarble, leave it now or you will crawl out of this office.”

“Okay, bye. But do not miss the damn dance, please. We have little time left and I don’t want to end up looking for a wife.”

He did not answer. He was uncomfortable, incredulous of what he was about to do and the insolent desire that stirred him inside. In a way, perhaps he himself had bordered on that situation, with his orders and challenges. But, in his defense, he was completely sure that no other woman would have endured what she did. He was never going to imagine that Bulma would end up being so determined.

He had to be careful, maybe she was trying to manipulate him to get her out of her misery. Although that didn’t erase the fact that he wanted her, and he was aware of it.

She instead ran to lock herself in her room. With the image of Vegeta's lips etched in her mind she leaned back against the bed and tried to relax her breathing. She touched her chest and her heart beat was so hard that she felt its throbbing at the tips of her fingers. She bit her lip, after feeling for the first time something so fierce inside her, a longing that burned her skin.

It had lasted so little that Bulma closed her eyes to remember him with all her feelings. It wouldn’t be her first kiss, however, the sensation so far from the innocence that this tension gave her, made her feel that she had never been kissed properly. It could be that she had grown a lot, and that the experiences she had had with him were very particular. Never had a man touched her skin so naturally, as if it were his.

Vegeta was exciting. She thought as she remembered him, ordering her to wrap him in her legs. And it was a reality that she had discovered long ago and without wanting to, but that at that moment had suddenly unfolded. It was hard to explain and she wasn’t sure if she could point to the exact moment in which she had found him attractive. And he could also be an imbecile.

She buried her face on the pillow, returning little by little to the reality that was pressing her now. She had to prepare her suitcase to travel, and she had to go out quickly to buy some cheap dresses to take with her. She had to look very good, she thought with hope. And then she realized that the same man who woke her an indescribable attraction, was going to force her to travel with the man who had ruined her life completely.

She realized in a short time the contradiction she felt inside. How could someone who attracted her wildly make her so enraged at the same time? Maybe those two sensations were intimately linked. But she never imagined that would be involved in something similar.

The idea that what was forming inside of her was nothing more than a raw and wild desire, was the most reasonable. It was a low instinct of her body, part of being a woman. But she still had dignity, maybe it was really the only thing she had left. And she was going to travel all that nefarious trip with much grace. She was going to dress so well that neither Black nor Vegeta would stand to see her and know that she was free and not theirs.

Determined, she went down the stairs and when she was reaching the front door, she came across Tarble.

“Are you going somewhere? If you want, I can take you were you need to be.”

Bulma recognized him immediately. She had thought about him a short time ago. She remembered him from that notorious day in which she humiliated Vegeta at the dance. Had seen them arguing without knowing the reason, but that didn’t seem strange to her now, knowing the Count better.

"I do not want to disturb you," she said kindly.

"It's no trouble, please," Tarble answered, opening the door for her.

She knew naturally that Vegeta's brother couldn’t do anything to her, he did not look like someone who might arouse concern. In addition, he was quite short and that inspired her more confidence. He wasn’t as strong as Vegeta nor as intimidating.

“Where are you going? He asked before closing the door of his carriage.”

“To the center, please.”

On the way Tarble didn’t told her much, she only formally introduced herself, but she didn’t tell him her last name as he expected. After a few minutes Bulma noticed the way he was looking at her out of the corner of his eye, trying to hide his curiosity while turning to the window.

"Sorry," he finally said. “You are Bulma Briefs right?”

She hesitated over her answer and Tarble heard only an unintelligible babble.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to bother you. I just wanted to tell you that I'm really sorry about what happened with your parents. Is Vegeta treating you well?”

It was impossible for him to ignore the instant flush of her cheeks.

“Please, don’t misunderstand me… I mean... sorry. I didn’t mean _that_.”

“It's okay, I understand... Yes, Vegeta is a good employer...”

Of course she was not going to reveal to him the details of their working relationship, and how uncomfortable they could be for other hear.

“Well, I'm glad to hear it.”

Tarble's smile was not an apex similar to that of his older brother. In it there was genuine empathy for her situation. Even if he bent it as he did, they were not alike at all. Tarble's felt somehow very pure and innocent. Vegeta's was malevolent and twisted. Then why did she like him so much? There must be something wrong with her, she though.

They said goodbye when Bulma arrived at her destination. Tarble told her that he expected to see her again and she felt for a moment like she was a society lady once again. She stopped feeling it when she realized that she couldn’t afford any of the dresses that she liked the most and ended up asking for directions from a cheaper store.

At the end of 5th street they told her there was a small store. When she got there, it was hard for her to find it until she finally found a old man cleaning with extreme rigor the glass of his window.

She came in to discover several dresses on display, but nothing like what he used to use. The shoulders were lower and the colors more daring. No trimmings, no bulging bows. But everything seemed to be the price she could pay.

When she returned to the mansion discovered that Vegeta had left to ride his stallion, so she went up to his room to prepare his things.

The Count had climbed Storm's back practically after Tarble left the mansion. He needed to free his mind for a few hours, get Bulma out of sight and her stupid long and mesmerizing hair, and her insolent gaze. Her damn breathing and her sinister lips.

Nothing could assure him that she was not trying to use him, manipulating him for her own convenience. It wouldn’t be the first time he slept with a woman he shouldn’t, but she would be the first employee.

Sometimes Vegeta doubted if Bulma really needed that job so much, or if what she really wanted was to show him that he wasn’t going to break her. Perhaps both reasons were not mutually exclusive, however, he couldn’t get it out of his head that he might be falling into some kind of trick of hers.

The only thing he could be sure of from experience was that he should distrust her, even though it would be hard to do so for a few fleeting moments.

He couldn’t bend in those moments of savage weakness. He had to distance himself from her, maybe she should no longer be his valet. Maybe he could make her a kind of assistant, a housekeeper. He would have two of those, who cared. But he had to finish that power game that they both were fighting.


	8. Chapter VIII

* * *

** IN YOUR HANDS **

* * *

 

Chapter

VIII

* * *

  
It was quite complicated the task of removing from her mind the moment she had lived a few hours ago. When she neglected her imperious task of forgetting it, the Countess's face standing in front of her, furtively returned to her thoughts. Dressed in that fine suit and with the neck wrapped in the silk of his shirt, observing her with a hungry gesture, with contained despair.

When she returned to the mansion, she cursed herself as she fell into the fantasy of kissing him, wondering what would have happened if Tarble hadn’t been born to interrupt their exciting meeting in an uncomfortable way.

If she thought about it carefully, the Count could make any task exude an implicit erotic air, even if the task he demanded was the most normal. As if he carried with him an inescapable sensuality. And as if she were a small trembling quarry that inflated to defend itself but that constantly ended up cornered by that dangerous predator.

By the times he arrived at the mansion she had already begun to blame herself for that slip. She didn’t have to meditate too much to realize the great mistake she had made; however, she was disappointed by the urgent desire that burned her pores since she left that office.

It had never happened to her; she would never have imagined that she could desire so fervently the kiss of a man who had set himself the goal in life to humiliate and mistreat her permanently. She recriminated her masochism, aware of the incoherence of her desire. Betrayed by her own body.

Once the overwhelming reality was present and was evident to her, she accepted something that she had purposely ignored for some time... She felt an explosive attraction towards him. And when the idea took root in her mind; she analyzed it carefully and wondered why. Why had she chosen to feel that way for him? It escaped logic and reason completely and the answer was so elusive that, although she thought for a long time, she couldn’t find it. Mentally enumerated all the qualities of Vegeta and although she could count several, the negative characteristics seemed to have more weight.

Yes, Vegeta had a surname of those that in her past life would have attracted her enormously. Yes, his family had amassed an impressive, enviable fortune. In addition, he had a noble title and was attractive, although it had cost her to admit that last. However, he had a repugnant reputation, was petulant, unseemly, antisocial, a first-rate cretin when he proposed it. He was extremely lonely, the opposite end of the spectrum in which she was positioned. Bulma adored the dances, the meetings, the events, she liked to interfere in every detail and to boast of the compliments that the meetings that were given in her mansion, when she had one.

She had realized that despite these great differences between them, there were some other reasons that made them similar. Both had lost their parents and their brothers were far away from them. Besides, neither of them seemed to have a loving prospect in the distance, she knew that she had behaved with such superiority that none of the men she had met approached what she was looking for, but she didn’t know the reasons he had to be single.

She knew well his reputation, and the little decorum he had had with several women. Despite this, she had never seen anyone leave his room at night, at least since she had arrived.

She meditated for half an hour, submerged in the bathtub. Then she put on her uniform once more and wandered around the mansion expecting to find Vegeta, disguising the anxiety she felt to face him again. With some disappointment she realized his absence. She dined in solitude and then decided that, despite being on the outside, she would continue to do the work that belonged to her.

The next day they had to board a railway and he had not prepared his suitcase. So, fulfilling the tasks that a good valet would do, when she finished her meal went up to the master bedroom to prepare Vegeta's suitcases.

She chose three pairs of white gloves and a pair of cufflinks. They would not be away so long to need more. She doubted that they attended a special social event to really need them. She folded with particular rigor a pair of shirts and pants, even underwear. She opened Vegeta's wardrobe door and took a jacket fastened to a hanger.

“What are you doing?”

Bulma was startled when Vegeta’s voice made himself present, with its imposing characteristic fierceness, but seeing his usual face turned again to appreciate the garment that she had in her hands.

"I was preparing your things for tomorrow," she said, admiring the thin jacket as she laid it on the bed.

The Count walked with suspicion and dissimulation until the wardrobe and closed the door, hoping that Bulma hadn’t noticed the box of shoes that he had hidden there. And, judging by her disinterested appearance, it seemed that she hadn’t seen them… So it became obvious to him that he would eventually have to get rid of them.

“It isn’t necessary that you do it.”

“It’s no problem, it's almost ready.”

“No, I mean, I do not need you to take care of those things anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

She turned to him, falling flatly on the Count's iron gesture. Expectant of an answer that she herself was imagining.

“I don’t want you as my valet anymore.”

“Are you firing me?”

In Bulma's voice there was a certain fear that she failed to disguise, but his face remained as calm as possible.

“Not quite.”

Vegeta was reluctant to hold her gaze. He couldn’t help remembering at that moment the improper thoughts he had had inside his office and had no desire to repeat it. On the contrary, he turned insinuating disinterest, with the intention of making it obvious to her.

“You're going to be my assistant, from now on. I do not want you to take care of my clothes, my bathrooms, or my bed.”

His last words had sounded contemptuous and insulting. Bulma knew well what was his intention and her gesture hardened when she understood it completely, but said nothing. To answer that rebuff that had not been said explicitly would be admitting that she had thought about it, and she wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction. Apparently Vegeta was going to behave as if nothing had happened, and if that were the way things were going to be, she would not admit it either.

The manifest rejection of Vegeta on her was a resounding blow to Bulma's ego, stronger than she would be willing to admit. And, although from the beginning her work generated her a strong rejection, now she felt unwilling to change positions.

"Excellent," she replied, hiding with a gesture of satisfaction the throbbing pain in her throat.

“On my desk you will find some notebooks, and pens for tomorrow. I want you to write everything that Black tells us, so I'll analyze later if it's a good business or not.”

"Sure... Now, with your permission, my Lord," she said and quickly left.

After seeing her retire, he took the time to analyze the bag she had so diligently prepared for him. He finished putting it together and went to sleep with an uncomfortable feeling under his skin. He was as aware as she was of what had happened in his office, but just as surely, he was that he couldn’t say it out loud or put it into words. He had been carrying that hidden wish since he had arrived and had put her into that game of pride he had created. He cursed himself on several occasions, having started that confrontation with her, since by relegating her to being his assistant, he was, in a certain way, losing. He was admitting that he could not tolerate being touched by her again because he wasn’t sure how unshakeable his desire would be to not get involved with Bulma. He could disguise his estrangement as rejection and didn’t deserve further questioning from her, if what she wanted was a salary and a place to sleep. But deep down he knew his reasons well and that bothered him. It made him uncomfortable to admit to himself that he wanted her. He was grateful and hated Tarble's timely presence at the same time, because if it hadn’t been, he would surely have ended up running her over the desk and he couldn’t be able to forgive himself. How could he be so reckless? He had never had a quarrel like that in his life. Maybe he had been at some point the talk of a group of nobles, for their reckless passional advances, or rather sexual. But nobody could ever say that he had gone overboard with any of his employees, and he didn’t want to commit that stupidity at that moment.

He wasn’t sure why he felt that treacherous attraction to her, if she was just a spoiled, insufferable, gossipy, arrogant brat. Perhaps she awakened his curiosity by the streght she had when doing whatever he asked, no matter how humiliating. It could be because of the permanent challenge he found in her pearly gaze when confronted her. That particular emotion that is not in the majority of the women of her stratum, as submissive as simpletons.

Unknowingly, he was going through the same internal scrutiny as Bulma, both reclining on their beds in rooms spaced only one by a corridor. It was difficult to fall asleep, wasting inappropriate thoughts, formulating explanations for questions that nobody had asked them.

The night ended in a blink, when they both silenced the alarm clocks by their beds. After Bulma wore the dress she had bought the previous afternoon, one of Vegeta's coachmen approached her bedroom to ask for her bags.

Between the uncertainty that generated her the rejection of the Count, Bulma almost forgot that a weekend was waiting for her to be very close to Black. But that morning she got out of bed with a renewed attitude and with supreme confidence sat inside the carriage while waiting for Vegeta.

She had breakfasted alone and after taking some things from Vegeta's desk, as he had asked, she waited patiently on the carriage.

When Vegeta finally arrived, after giving some indications to his driver, he climbed along with her and noticed with special attention Bulma’s bruised face. He didn’t ask her what she was thinking while her eyes were lost in the window, but he knew that surely; she was thinking about was Black. Of course, he wasn’t going to give her words of support to confront her, but he did ask himself for a moment how capable would she be to deal with him. After all, he had chosen to take her as a punishment, a penance for being so blatant with him.

Bulma made a monumental effort not to turn around to see him, but she had noticed that he was wearing a tailored suit. She had an eye for that kind of things, and she didn’t want him to notice how fascinated she was by the seams curving perfectly over his shoulders, or the way the suit narrowed precisely around his waist. So, she rigorously examined every building she saw through the window hoping to convey the same rejection that he had sent her the night before.

Far away was Vegeta to feel that careful rejection that she was trying to simulate. Since, after seeing her out of the corner of his eye he turned to the other window on the way to the station.

When they arrived, he took his suitcase and dismissed his driver, while Bulma carried her own and together they walked silently to the platform where Black would wait for them. A few feet away they caught a glimpse of a group of six gentlemen, the Baron included. Vegeta soon noticed that he had already laid his eyes on them, or rather on Bulma, who was walking safely behind him. He watched him, his hands inside the pockets of his gray trousers, smiling with ease as he slid his gaze from the young lady's feet to the last of her turquoise hairs.

He couldn’t disguise the gesture of displeasure that was planted on his face, and couldn’t change it when he got to meet the group of gentlemen. Black watched Bulma with that cynical smile until the last second, and then, as if he had not realized his intentions, he turned to Vegeta and extended his hand to shake his.

“Good morning, Count. We were waiting for you,” he said, waiting for him to return the gesture.

The now assistant of Vegeta, watched with a sour expression how both gentlemen shook their hands in a cordial greeting, but of course couldn’t perceive the strong tension of the gesture they shared. Vegeta could feel the pressure of the Baron on his gloved hand and held his gaze, appreciating with displeasure his contemptible smile.

With cordiality, Black introduced Vegeta to the group of men and after he introduced Bulma as his assistant, the group went to the railroad cars to leave the station in a few minutes.

As they walked to their carriage, Black turned that same creepy expression on Bulma, watching her over his shoulder.

“Can I help you with that?” He said, referring to her bags.

That didn’t escape Vegeta's ears, and although he felt slightly annoyed by that chivalrous offer, he remained silent and pretended not to have noticed.

"I can do it myself," she replied with arrogance.

A light smile curled on the edge of Vegeta's lip, unable to contain the satisfaction he felt at her rejection for Black. But he didn’t seem affected by it, on the contrary, let out a soft laugh as sensual as his walk and didn’t disturb his funny glimpse. As if he had the unequivocal certainty that Bulma would eventually fall for his gallantries.

Before getting into the carriage, Vegeta extended his hand to Bulma to give her something and she accepted it, waiting for what he would say next.

“I want you to look for a sleeping car for you, you will not sleep in mine.”

Vegeta didn’t have to try very hard to make Bulma feel his rejection, they were gestures as simple as that the ones that crowded her ego the most. She made a superhuman effort to smile cordially upon receiving the payment.

"What a relief," she replied to Vegeta's surprise, who felt like an expletive was stabbing his throat.

When Bulma went to the ferry attendant, Vegeta watched carefully as Black chased her path with his eyes. Attentive to his intentions, he waited for him to show him his sleeping car and after leaving his suitcase, he returned to the corridor, but couldn’t find him.

Again, Bulma was disturbed by her conflicted thoughts with what she felt. She would never have thought of sharing a sleeping wagon with someone who was not her husband, it would have been so scandalous and could even ruin future marriage prospects. Now she felt so fickle that she didn’t understand why it irritated her so much that Vegeta wanted to have her away, when it was something so proper. It would have been unthinkable if they slept together, even embarrassing.

While they had already shared extremely inappropriate moments for two people in their position, they had been deprived. No one but him and she were aware of the intimacy of their job, and perhaps a few silent employees. Having been together in the same wagon would have been another humiliation, what would the other gentlemen think? She couldn’t allow that to her impoverished reputation.

After ordering her thoughts, she found herself calmer and saw a foot away an employee checking the tickets of an old woman. She waited patiently for him to end and approached him.

“Good morning, sir. Do you have a sleeping wagon available? I just didn’t get to pay for the ticket and I don’t want to share it.”

“I'm afraid it will be impossible. It usually runs out on weekends, so you should buy them at the box office before arriving, miss.”

"Thank you... I understand," Bulma said as she cursed in her thoughts.

When she had finally listed all the reasons she had for sleeping alone, she discovered that she would be forced to sleep next to him.

Possibly she would end up sharing more time alone with him than with anyone else. If she had intended to meet him in her past life, she would never have been allowed to see him without one or several chaperones. They would have been encountered at public events, they would have gone out for a walk in the company of their father and their time would have been limited. Even their first kiss would had been supervised with the intention of avoiding all kinds of improper action on the part of the gentleman, all in order to safeguard her decorum until the day they married.

Now, doubly frustrated, she turned to retrace her steps to the sleeping wagon that she would share with Vegeta, and she didn’t know exactly what he would say when she passed on these news to him. But before she could take a step forward, she felt a warm hand take her chin with delicacy and naturalness to look up and face the gloom of hers. The lady withdrew the gesture abruptly, her face enraged and her cheeks heated.

"Don’t you dare touching me," she said scornfully.

“I'm sorry, it's that I saw you a little worried. If I had known you would come, I would have paid for a sleeping wagon for you alone.

“I do not need anything from you, I'm not that desperate.”

“I think you are. Ouji's assistant? That doesn’t sound amusing.”

“That's not of your concern.”

“It's just a thought out loud, maybe I can offer you something better.”

Again, she saw his face twist a chilling smile, subtly leaning over her taking advantage of his height. It was so easy for him to wrap her up in his presence that Bulma's obfuscated gesture turned funny.

“None of what you have to offer interests me, Baron Black.”

“You have not even given me the opportunity to explain all the advantages you would have if you accept. Maybe we should give ourselves some time to talk about it, don't you think?”

"I already said no, and I'm not going to repeat it," she said, passing him quickly.

She was unable to go one step further when Black took her easily by the arm and dragged her back to him. When she faced him, she felt him touring her face with his tempestuous gaze. He drew her lips with his pupil and smiled at the blush that was born on Bulma's pale cheeks.

“I promise you it will be better than what you get working for Vegeta.”

The grip on Bulma's fragile arm suddenly ceased, when Black felt Vegeta's fierceness holding his own wrist. It had not been hard for him to imagine that he had followed him like a maniac when he disappeared from the investor group. And when he found him whispering things to his assistant in the middle of the wagon, his face tensed involuntarily. He approached him like an angry wave and held him without hesitation.

“Didn't you find a more vulgar way of stealing my employee?”

The Baron ceased his grip on Bulma and found some distaste in her eyes before she turned to retire to her sleeping wagon.

"My apologies," he answered the Count, raising his hands in amusement as he admitted his mistake.

“Was this the propose for your invitation?” Asked the Count, crossing his arms with a mocking gesture. “Because if so, you obviously wasted your time, she detests you.”

“Give her time, you know what they say, there is a single step from love to hatred...”

“There is another path from disgust.”

“What’s the matter, Vegeta? Does the competition intimidate you?”

“What competition do you speak of? I'm not interested in my employee. I just hoped you would have the decency not to induce my employee to resign when you're waiting to make me invest in this invention you were boasting about.”

“Don't tell me she's your only employee.”

"She's not, and I'm not interested if she resigns or not, it's a matter of decency. Apparently, it's something you lack of.”

“In that I must give you the reason, it was very indecent of me. I promise to wait until we close the business to seduce your assistant.”

“Good luck with that, it must be difficult to seduce the woman who you personally led to financial ruin.”

“I had planned to do it before the financial slip, that part wasn’t in my original plans.”

Vegeta found with Black's satisfied gesture kind of twisted. When he spoke of the misfortune to which he had subjected Bulma and her family with his business proposal, it seemed like it didn’t affect him at all. It seemed that the collateral damage he had caused didn’t affect him in the least and on the contrary he had naturalized it in such a perverse way that he found it overwhelming.

It's not that he felt threatened by Black, much less subjugated by him. Simply his disconnection from reality was so evident that it seemed to him that maybe he should be more careful with him than he thought initially.

His untimely and corrupt smile didn’t change his gesture in spite of the calamity he had caused to the woman he intended. He was strange, as he had always thought.

“I don’t intend to continue listening to your plans with her.”

"It's a relief for me to know that you don’t perceive her as more than an employee," he said calmly, putting his hands back in his pockets. “That reassures me, it would have been a waste if you ended up being her first man. She sleeps in your mansion and I came to think that something could have happened between the two of you, your reputation precedes you. Anyway, thanks,” he said, shaking him by the shoulder, "You had given me some relief.”

Vegeta observed the gesture exacerbated and withdrew his hand while tilting a smile.

"Your optimism pities me, Black. I'm going to enjoy watching you fail.”

Black smiled again.

“I'm being a lousy host. What do you think about a card game? If you want, we can bet to make it more interesting, we’ll have all afternoon here.”

“I'm sure I can find better ways to spend the trip that are not in your company.”

“It's okay, I understand your reluctance, I'm very good at cards and I wouldn’t want to humiliate one of my investors...”

As he left the car, Vegeta felt with sudden familiarity how the desire to tear him apart was swirling inside him. He knew that he was trying to manipulate him into joining his game, taunting him, challenging him to participate as if somehow that encounter ended up reviling which of the two was the best. Of course, his skin boiled thinking that that suggested he feared his challenge, nothing was more far away from reality. He didn’t even fear to squander a fortune on bets in order to prove to him that he wasn’t afraid of anyone. So, he reluctantly walked to the train's playroom and found Black along with the rest of the gentlemen at a table next to the croupier.

"Welcome," Black said, turning on his shoulder to see him. “We had just started, sit down. We’ll play blackjack.”

The Count walked decisively and sat on the last chair at the other end of the table. He placed his bet and watched the dealer mix the cards with agility, then placed them in the center of the table in front of the four men and Black set out to split it in half. Vegeta, from the other side observed his confident gesture with distrust, hoping it had not influenced the croupier in some way to get favored during the game. Shortly after starting, Vegeta realized the irrationality of Black's game. He didn’t stand when anyone would, when he knew he could win by having the highest cards. Apparently Black was going for twenty-one or nothing, no matter if in that risky method he lost every bet.

At some point Vegeta felt the Baron's eyes on him, as if he were somehow challenging him to participate in that silent game he had created. Suddenly Black began to double his bets, and with each chip he put on the table his dark eyes were lost in the Count. If Vegeta wanted to continue participating, he had to match Black's bets, and he did it without fuss. Waiting to see when he would finish wasting his money. The men next to Vegeta was the first to retire, when the bet exceeded seven chips, after fifteen chips the second one withdrawn. And finally, there were only the two of them.

It was obvious by that time what his intentions had been from the beginning.

“What do you think if we only played twenty-one?” He asked without losing a moment that expression that so irritated him.

The question was very simple, to accept they would eliminate the croupier from the equation and only the two would play. During the previous hands they had played against the house, and in that way to lose one of them, the other would keep his money. It was simpler, a couple of rules less, but as in everything that Black did, he knew there was an underlying intention that he wasn’t going to tell until after they got into heat.

“Let's play," Vegeta replied.

Deep down he knew he would be an idiot if he thought it was a simple game, but having that idea in mind gave him the precautions he needed to face it.

They both got up from the semicircular table and retired to one for two people. The group of investors followed the confrontation with attention. Black asked for a card deck and mixed them in his hands with impressive ease, then he left the cards on the table, in front of the Count and he split the deck in half.

He placed ten chips on the table and Vegeta matched his bet. Black dealt two cards for each one, all in sight of the group, and while Vegeta waited for his cards he wondered what the real game would be.

Interestingly Black got blackjack on his first hand.

"I’m a lucky guy," he commented as he dragged Vegeta's chips over the moss-colored cloth of the table.

“Shut up and deal.”

During the second hand Vegeta equated Black's sumptuous bet of ten chips for the value of fifty units. Although it was not a figure that would left Vegeta in ruins, it was too high to have started.

“I hope you don’t get uneasy with my bets; I tend to give it all.”

“Who do you think you're talking to?”

Black dealt the cards again and curiously they had tied. Vegeta with a four of hearts and a Jack of spades added fourteen, while Black had obtained a seven of clubs and a seven of spades. They both looked at each other in the eye knowing that they would have to take a card from the deck to resolve that quarrel. Vegeta took his card, but decided not to see it until Black took his. He had to get seven to add twenty-one, but no more so he wouldn’t lose the game. He knew that there were only two sevens left in the deck since Black had obtained two of them, which made the chances of that luck minimal.

The Baron turned his card and showed an Az of clubs, which could be a one or a ten. Of course, he wouldn’t choose the value that left him out of the game with twenty-four, so that at the moment he had the highest value of the table.

Vegeta turned his card afterwards and half smiled at the sight of the three of diamond in his hand. He left the card on the table and dragged Black's chips to join his.

Again, Black mixed the cards and placed them on the table, religiously Vegeta broke the deck, but the Baron stopped when he was about to place his bet. Reluctant to place the first tab, looked at his opponent in the eyes and perceived in him a special, sinister brightness.

“What if we bet something more interesting?”

He hadn’t taken him long to demonstrate his true intentions. He crossed his arms and looked at his opponent's defiant expression.

“What do you have in mind?”

"No... I do not think you have the guts," he answered, placing the first card.

"You must be thinking of some perversity that I will not be a part of," he replied with a confident smile.

“I was going to bet your sleeping wagon. But I would understand that it bothers you to lose and have to leave it to me.”

 _“My sleeping wagon?”_ He asked himself as the answer hit him in the nose. He had asked Bulma to get one for herself when Black came out behind her, so she most certainly couldn’t get it and was forced to share it with him.

“Oh... Of course, don’t you think it's a bit pathetic?”

"I would understand if it disturbed you to know that I would spend the night with your assistant, but I will not go over it with her. Don’t worry about it.”

“I do not care what you do with her, I don’t care in the least.”

“Perfect! Then I'll bet fifty chips against your wagon,” he said, smugly placing the chips on the table.

Something remorse inside Vegeta, although he wasn’t sure what it was. He knew he was facing the man who had ruined Bulma's life but at the same time he had no coherent motives for opposing what might happen between them. If he lost, he wasn’t sure how much she could hate him for it, maybe that would be the last humiliation to which he could submit her before she resigned and that was what he had been looking for from the beginning. But accepting that bet implied something else that he didn’t know how to explain and he didn’t feel like clarifying it either.

All he knew was that by rejecting that proposal he would be admitting what Black had announced, that their closeness bothered him. And it was inconceivable for him to admit such an accusation.

"Perfect..." he replied, waiting for his cards.

The last hand was more uneasy than he could have admitted. He waited patiently for his cards, expectant of the value of each one. The first one was received by him, Black had given him an Az of hearts. As he placed the second card on the table Vegeta wondered how lucky he could be to receive twenty-one in two hands almost consecutive, but Black had barely added an eight, while satisfied, the Count looked on the table nineteen of his hand.

Suddenly he felt uncomfortable. He had planted his cards and was now waiting for Black to remove a card from the deck. The Baron left a two on the table, along with the others. Now he had a ten and as expected, he ventured to take another. How much luck could he have to overcome his hand? What were the chances that they would tie and start over?

He swallowed hard when Black turned his fourth card. A five of spades.

“What will be the chances of getting a six?” He asked as he took one more.

Faced with the possibility of losing, Vegeta shuddered more than he would have wished. But what was causing that sensation? The inescapable certainty that Black could spend the whole night with Bulma was grotesque to him and it generated a strong rejection, in spite of having admitted the little that it mattered to him. In an effort to control his disdain, he smiled at him confidently and hardened his brow.

"What a pity," Black said, seeing the black queen between his fingers.

However, his amused expression didn’t change, quite the contrary, he smiled at Vegeta as he dragged his chips to him.

“What would you have said to her if you lost?”

“I don’t owe her any explanation.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you haven't found the chapter very boring and thanks to the people who stop to leave a comment. Trying to get better at this. Thank you!


	9. Chapter IX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the bit of spanish there was at the end of the last chapter, I didn't notice, thank you for letting me know :) I'm loving working on this translation, your language is so different from my own but also so beautiful. So many things sound so different and have other impact. I just hope that you like it and that I’m not too terrible at this. Thanks again!

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**IN YOUR HANDS**

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Chapter

IX

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When the railroad reached its destination, Bulma was already and with her belongings in her hand. She was sitting on the discreet bed of her cart, surprised by Vegeta's absence. She had spent the whole night waiting for him to finally arrive and recriminate him for not having another place to sleep, but it seemed that he hadn’t spent the night there.

Upon arriving she discovered his suitcase on the bed, and although she spent the afternoon reading for the sole purpose of not crossing paths with Black again, she discovered that Vegeta wasn’t coming back. When she got dressed to sleep, she began to feel some anxiety to meet him again, it would be the first time that she slept in the same room as a man and that made her more nervous than she expected. Despite how much they had been ignored each other, she was a little grateful for the way he had interrupted her encounter with the Baron. However, upon awakening she realized that he had entered at some point of the night simply to retrieve his suitcase, since the bed was intact.

It intrigued her to think about where had he spend the night and, without wanting to, at the same time she had asked himself with whom. What if he had found someone else to sleep with? Maybe he had found some old romance in one of the wagons that would have given him asylum. After all, that was the reputation he had.

It would displease her to know with certainty that that was what had happened. And although she tried to find enough reasons to sustain the displeasure that this idea produced, she didn’t find any one valid enough to let Vegeta know. Just thinking that he would be able to kiss her one day and sleep with another the next was repugnant to her and, despite her frustration, she told herself that it had been best not to have joined him in that longed-for kiss.

By the time she left in search of Black and the investors, hoping that Vegeta would meet them, she felt extremely dazed. As if the absence of the Count the night before had personally offended her. Even though she had no reason to expect anything more noble from him, she couldn’t help but feel displaced by the possibilities she had posed.

When she found the group gathered, she looked at the profile of the Count and realized almost immediately that he was wearing the same clothes he had worn the day before. Her stomach turned; she was sure she had packed enough changes for the whole weekend. But maybe _she_ hadn’t even given him time to change his clothes.

She walked to them, trying to appear calm, but didn’t succeed. Bulma stood next to the Count without greeting him and turned her gaze to any point in the wagon.

The gentlemen were discussing what the evening was waiting for them. Black had explained to them that they would meet later in a workshop where they could try the blissful invention for themselves. But Bulma couldn’t concentrate on the conversation as terrible scenarios came to her head in which Vegeta and a stranger were the protagonists.

Vegeta looked sideways at her petite figure standing at his side. He observed her with dissimulation and perceived a faint blush on her face, but he ignored it. After getting off the train, they divided into three groups to go to the hotel and, of course, Black chose to share a car with Bulma and Vegeta, despite the repudiation that both had for him.

"I hope it doesn’t bother you," he told the Count as he took a seat next to Bulma.

And, although Vegeta made a huge effort to simulate disinterest, he really felt wronged just from having him in the same carriage as them. Disturbed by the Baron's incoherent perseverance for the woman he had ruined, he sat in front of him in total silence. It was easier for the Count to digest Black's presence thanks to the unbreakable security of the disgust she had for him. Her angry face was so resounding that she didn’t need the slightest intervention of Vegeta, Bulma would reject him until death.

She crossed her arms and didn’t say a word to either of them, completely turning her attention to the window one more time. Vegeta was sure that that obvious anger in Bulma was due exclusively to Black's presence, but he came into doubt when he met her glare before she turned back to the window.

“What did you do to her, Vegeta?” Asked the Baron with an amused air, after sharing a few silent minutes with them.

“Bring her along on a trip with someone she hates deepply.”

“She knew that since yesterday and I wasn’t as angry.”

“Can you two stop talking about me like I'm not here? And for your information I came here with two men that I detest.”

Vegeta couldn’t have felt more insulted, especially in front of his nemesis. Black laughed and looked at the Count tempted to fire her at that exact moment. Surprised by her bold response, he was seduced by the idea of making her get off the carriage and abandon her.

“Do you want me to fire you right here?”

“Don't be impolite, Vegeta. After all, yesterday you bet her bed, anyone would have quitted after that.”

Bulma turned completely perplexed. She saw the Baron's face in the hope of finding a slight sign that he was lying, however, she found nothing but his typical twisted smile.

“Is that true?” She questioned the Count and seeing his congested expression was enough for her to conclude that Black was sincere. “How dare you do that to me?!”

Between the rumble in Bulma's voice and the relaxed amusement in Black's face, Vegeta felt cornered. Suddenly the car seemed too tiny of a space to hit Black and even smaller to explain himself. She wasn’t sure how, but she controlled her urge to hit him with her bag, to throw hundreds of insults and get out of the car at that moment.

"We'll talk at the hotel," the Count growled.

The woman wrapped her arms around herself and returned to her window again. Satisfied, Black didn’t hide his smile and waited silently to arrive to the hotel. His job was done.

That afternoon they would see the motive of their trip, so Black gave them a few hours to check in and leave their belongings at the hotel before they got back together to leave.

Vegeta went ahead to ask for a room for Bulma, and without explanations he left the key in her hands. Unfortunately for the Count, his rooms weren’t far apart and, although he try to avoid her, she pursued him to the elevator in search of an explanation. Suddenly he began to hate the finite spaces in which they were locked.

"I demand an explanation," she said when the elevator door closed.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

“You were going to let that imbecile sleep with me!”

He turned to her, facing her dazed face.

“But you didn’t, did you?”

Despite the stern tone in the Count's voice, Bulma felt herself shudder once more. It wasn’t her will, of course. She was upset, so upset that she could slap him. However, her treacherous heart immediately accelerated when she saw his face fiercely over hers.

“And where did you sleep last night?” She questioned in the same recriminating tone.

Vegeta's stiff expression turned into a strange gesture and he found himself again wondering if the blush on her cheeks was due to the argument they were holding or it was something else. The elevator door opened and Vegeta stiffened once more to go out into the hall and find his room.

“Was it also part of the bet?” She continued, walking behind him.

"No," he replied.

He had simply slept sitting in another wagon. After thinking about it and remembering Black's words, he thought it would be better not to share the car with her to avoid misunderstandings.

“So, where did you sleep?”

“That's none of your business. And I hope it's the last time you dare to question me or the next time I will not answer.”

Vegeta opened the door of his room and closed it with such force that he rocked the sing with the numbers of the room, 304. Bulma stood on the other side of the room, feeling so much fury that she could have shouted. However, she grabbed her bags and went to her room in leaps and bounds.

Even after closing the door, doubt lingered in his mind. Why had she asked that question? Vegeta had simply spent the night uncomfortably, sleeping barely sitting in one of the wagons. But, like so many things in recent days, it seemed humiliating to admit the truth. He felt stupid at the mere thought that he had slept there so as not to cause her any more dishonor than he had already caused. For, if Black knew that they shared the same roof and had drawn such tremendous conjectures, what else could they be saying about her at that moment?

Of course, it wasn’t his problem the reputation she wanted to charge, after all nobody had forced her to accept that job. But as he felt involved, he made the decision to save that gossip from the group of gentlemen who accompanied him.

He took a shower and changed his suit, then went down to breakfast and by two in the afternoon he had gone down to the hotel’s lobby to wait for Black and his investors.

Bulma went down the stairs shortly after he, had her agenda in her hands and wore a dress like the one she had the previous day, which he hadn’t had much time to inspect. She wore a long skirt that was tighter than women used to wear, and on top of her a jacket similar to his, shorter and tighter.

She had tried to collect her hair and if he looked closely; he could see several untidy strands. He was very tempted to make fun of her when the rest of the investors appeared with Black. Soon they were back in cars. The Baron personally took charge of escorting each group to his carriage, leaving Bulma and Vegeta last.

He opened the door to the young lady and made a kind gesture for her to come up and take his hand. Bulma reluctantly accepted and got into the car, and when Black was about to get on, Vegeta stepped forward and sat next to her, although he didn’t even turn to look at her. Amused, the Baron climbed up last and sat in front of the girl with blue eyes. He looked at her hair without hesitation and half smiled.

"Excuse me," he said, moving closer to a turquoise lock of hair.

Vegeta watched him settle her hair behind her ear calmly. He was annoyed by her absent reaction, she seemed to realize his intentions too late. Bulma turned her gaze to Black and, although she didn’t like the feel of his touch, she couldn’t think of anything to say to him. She had been so focused on being upset with Vegeta for having practically wagered her, that had even forgotten everything about Black. The Count, on the other hand, didn’t ignore any tiny infamous attempt to get close to her, and he had watched in horror as she allowed herself to be perpetrated by him. Was she finally giving in to him?

Maybe it wouldn’t be as weird as it seemed, after all she was hating him at that moment and if Black really wanted to marry her, she would have completely solved her financial problems. And, if she had so patiently tolerated all his humiliations, it wouldn’t be so foolish for her to endure marrying the forerunner of her greatest misfortune.

If he was right, every concept he had of her had collapsed on the floor. Either way, she was a woman like all the others. And perhaps it had been his mistake to expect more from her than from the rest. However, the idea was so disgusting that he didn’t turn around to see them for the rest of the trip, which fortunately did not last long.

Upon arriving at the workshop, Black walked with such confidence that he infected the rest of the gentlemen with enthusiasm. Within that great structure was Zamasu waiting for them along with an old man with an emaciated face. Immediately Bulma felt the cold look of the pale man on her and an inexplicable fear invaded her. Instinctively she stood next to Vegeta who didn’t overlook her strange behavior.

Behind them a white sheet covered with suspicion an apparatus of immense dimensions. It seemed to be six feet high and eight and a half long.

Black introduced the engineer making honorable mention of all his great inventions, then presented Zamasu as he had done before in the Count's mansion, he was his partner.

“We are not going to delay this anymore; the Engineer will take care of explaining the minors afterwards... Now I present to you, the steam car...”

At the end of his presentation, Black pulled back the curtain and uncovered the car with the steam engine in front of them. Bulma was the most astonished of the group. She examined carefully the metal structure that jutted out like in the railroads and the enormous rear wheels of the car. Of course, they would have to be huge to carry such a motor and compartment for coal.

The Baron asked them to approach and while they were investigating the structure of the Engineer, he began to explain step by step the use of the car. He explained the operation of the engine and each connection inside it that would allow the car to run on its own. Vegeta stood aside and curiously noticed the intensity of his assistant's gaze. She was truly amazed at what she was seeing and paid more attention to the explanations that old man gave them, than any other investor. While the rest began to request a demonstration, he saw Bulma taking notes in her notebook, but when he peeked over her shoulder, he noticed the illegibility of her handwriting. It would be a waste of time to review her notes later. Half smiled without realizing it, when he found her drawing the engine quickly, and he was surprised at how easy it was for her to do it. Although he should have imagined it, she loved reading books about engineering.

At the time of lighting the contraption, the girl was extremely focused expectant to the reaction of that device and as she had been doing so far, she continued inspecting it and taking notes.

Bulma knew that this was her job when she got there, but when she saw what it was all about, her heart sank and the time slid by. By the time the demonstration was over she felt that she had just arrived, and although she had taken the opportunity to ask her creator several questions, the feeling that it had been insufficient discouraged her. If it had been for her, she would have spent the rest of the afternoon talking to the old man, since it was the first time she had the opportunity to engage in such a conversation with an engineer.

Black was as amazed at Bulma's questions as Vegeta was, and even the engineer himself. The Count came to feel satisfied by the attention she had awakened without realizing it, and perhaps that would be the first time that it wasn’t among her intentions to be the center of attention. Strangely, Vegeta felt slightly proud of having her, even though he didn’t know how well instructed she was from the beginning.

After turning on the engine, Bulma frowned at the terrible odor emanating from a five-foot cylinder located in the center of the engine. She covered her nose and observed the inconvenient smoke emanate from the contraption, covering the environment with a thick dark layer.

Everyone had their chance to ride it and even drive it, all except for Bulma, who of course was a woman. She felt genuinely annoyed by the way they had excluded her, although she should have imagined the restrictions that her gender entailed. At the time of returning to the hotel, Black fortunately didn’t accompany them. Vegeta and Bulma shared the car silently until she decided to ask him a question.

“What are you going to do?”

He looked at her and raised an eyebrow. Immediately understood what she was referring to, she was asking him if he would invest in that business or not.

"I'm still not sure," he said calmly. “What do you think?”

It was the first time that someone asked her opinion about a business, which caused her a pleasant surprise, especially coming from Vegeta.

“Well, I think it has several points against. There are many things that could be improved. Specially the odor.”

The Count gave an incredulous laugh that offended Bulma immediately.

“What are you laughing about?”

When he asked what she thought, he expected a shorter answer. The thought had not passed through his mind; that Bulma could have a true opinion about it, after all she was not an engineer, and could never be.

“Do you think you could do something better?” He said in a mocking tone.

She hesitated a moment. She had never built anything, not even designed something for someone else to build it. She had fixed a broken clock and found that task to be extremely amusing. But when she found herself standing there in front of that new invention, something inside her awakened anxiously and thousands of ideas began to accumulate in her mind. She had read so much and for so many years that suddenly all those texts began to take shape and connect with each other to give rise to new ideas. What she wasn’t so sure of was whether she could move from theory to practice, as she expected. However, she wasn’t willing to admit that there was something she couldn’t do.

“Yes, I’m sure I can do something better.”

Vegeta didn’t know whether to laugh out loud or send her to sleep because, for him, it was evident that he was raving.

“That man has been studying for many years. You cannot even fix your hairstyle.”

The car stopped and the Count wasn’t slow to get off, the driver helped Bulma out and she, still offended, shot out behind him. Vegeta didn’t have the time or will to listen to her claims, he hadn’t slept well all night and all he wanted was to rest for a moment. It irritated him even more that she was the reason for this uncomfortable night, even if she didn’t know it.

“How can you be so sure I can’t do it?” She said as she entered the elevator with him.

Vegeta rolled his eyes. How would he explain something so obvious? She was a woman and there was no simpler explanation.

“If you looked in the mirror you would understand how I can be so sure.”

“You're such a…”

"Careful," he said bluntly and saw her swallow her last word.

The elevator door opened and the Count walked impatiently to his room, feeling that the stretch was too long. He listened to Bulma's footsteps behind him and closed his eyes trying to keep calm, opened the door 304 and pushed it to close after entering. But he didn’t hear the lock closing, Bulma had took it to enter behind him.

Incredulous, he turned to see her.

“What the hell you want?”

Bulma approached him with the same defiant air that she usually exuded. She stood in front of him, completely ignoring the impudence she had to get into his bedroom.

“Let me show you that I can do it.”

He crossed his arms and scrutinized her features. She had to be kidding.

She watched him raise an eyebrow as he examined her and made an enormous effort not to lose her north. She was really confident, after thinking about it for a few minutes she came to the conclusion that if she hadn’t done it before it had been purely and exclusively because of her situation. If she hadn’t been born to be educated for the sole purpose of being a worthy wife, she would have explored everything she was passionate about. And maybe that would be the perfect opportunity to get out of that fourth job Vegeta had given her.

“Do you want to build an engine?”

“I would do it by myself if I had the means, but obviously I can’t do it alone. If you finance it, I'm sure I could do it.”

The Count's lip arched into a genuine smile, he was amused and slightly interested in seeing what he was capable of. In any case, he would see her fail pathetically and it seemed something worth seeing.

"I have to confirm the investment with Black in ten days." He sensed the disappointment slipping in her gesture, her defiant gaze slumped on the floor. “So you have ten days to build it.”

Resuscitated, she returned to her employer with a delighted face. She couldn’t contain herself and hugged his neck tightly, stroking his face with her cheek. Vegeta was shocked, suddenly didn’t know what to do with his hands.

“Thank you,” he listened in a whisper.

When he finally came out of his surprise, he found himself intoxicated in the scent of her hair and the gentle pressure of her chest against his. He took her by the shoulders and pulled her away from his body, slightly alarmed.

She was so happy that she did not know what to tell him.

He had given her an impossible deadline, hoping she would be shocked but, on the contrary, she had managed to thrill Bulma for giving her just the chance. After placing it carefully at a safe distance, he looked at her again lost in her jovial smile. The most sincere he had seen since she knocked on the door of his mansion.

He cleared his throat and tried to regain his composure. Uncomfortable, he loosened the collar of his shirt as he suddenly felt a bit suffocated.

"I'm sorry," she said without neglecting her smile.

“Do you really want to do it?” He asked more calmly.

“Yes, I'm sure I can do it. Also, in your library I have a lot of reference material!”

There was not much more to say. For the moment, it seemed that the words had vanished from the Count, and although she had already obtained what she had come for, Bulma didn’t seem to have any intention of retiring.

He hurried back to himself, took the collar of his shirt and began to unbutton it. She, on the other hand, remained motionless and contemplated the process of removing each white button. Vegeta heard Bulma swallowing saliva inside her fragile snowy neck, and smiled.

“Are you planning stay here to sleep?” He asked without neglecting his task.

He had reached the chest when the lady came out of her embarrassing trance. Automatically her cheeks tinted and, very nervously, she frowned.

"I thought we would talk about the conditions under which I would work," she replied quickly, turning his face to the door to withdraw.

“It's easy, if after ten days you can’t build it, I'll be waiting for your resignation.”

“What?!” She exclaimed, exalted, returning to him.

"Do you think I'm going to squander all my money just for you to play for a while?”

“It's ten days!”

“A few moments ago you were confident with that time.”

“Because I did not know it could leave me in the street!”

"The terms are simple," he commented pleasantly when he finished unbuttoning his silk shirt. You have ten days to do something better than what was showed to us today, if you cannot… You have made me lose time and money, that's why it's the most logical thing for you to quit.”

It had been wonderful the ephemeral moment in which she believed that Vegeta was giving her an opportunity for the simple reason that deep down, he believed in her.

“Oh, it's fine! You will have to find another way to make me resign because this will not be it! And you’ll see when I show you that I am capable of doing it. You're so…”

"Careful," he repeated, pouncing on her. “Don’t make any mistakes, you are exhausting my patience and I’ll not hesitate to leave you on the street right now.”

Bulma stopped herself, she was ready to insult him. But found herself surprised by the violent way in which he had risen above her, so she preferred to keep silent. She swallowed again her insults and held her gaze to the Count.

"Yes, sir," she answered without neglecting his stormy way of looking at her.

His pupil was distracted by the lopsided smile of him. And then she went down, embarrassed by his bare neck and followed the path of skin that ended in his navel. Of course, Vegeta didn’t neglect that indiscreet route, nor the rose that began to be painted as watercolor on the snowy face of his employee. He felt her swallowing again, he felt her nervous, but still stupid enough to challenge him with the glare of his noctural gaze.

He also couldn’t repress the desire of his own body, betrayed by his fired pulse. Again, he was involved in the same scene he had regretted days ago. However, the regret he had felt, had vanished right now. He couldn’t get out of his own unbridled heartbeat, or the heat that was beginning to stifle him despite having a half-naked chest.

He watched intently without moving away, how Bulma moved her lips trying to say a word. And, while doing so, she lifted her chin a few inches that felt like a furtive invitation to taste them.

“I...” she whispered.

Wrapped in a swing, her troubled gaze traveled from the darkness of the Count's eyes to his parted lips. She wanted him. And he had noticed.

Subtly he approached her and he traveled the same eternal distance of a few inches. He was going to kiss her; he was going to kiss her and would go over her figure against the wall. He would bite her neck, tear off her dress and then drag her to the bed in front of them and make her his. There was nothing else that could happen later, in the mind of either of them. Cloudy before the shared desire they had to feel the warmth of the other's lips.

Finally he decided, he didn’t care about anything else, his reason had been erased. He threw himself over her mouth and saw her close her eyes to wait for him to sink into her mouth, but he stopped short after when she heard someone knock on the door.

He clenched his fists hard and turned his face, suddenly couldn’t see Bulma in the eye. She covered her mouth with her hand, her heart exalted and her skin caught fire.

“Who is it?” He roared.

“Zamasu, Count Vegeta. I didn’t want to bother you, just let you know that we’ll meet tonight for dinner in the hotel’s restaurant.”

“All right!” He answered without moving from his spot, but as soon as he finished speaking, Bulma had run out of the room.

She passed Zamasu at full speed and searched through her pockets for the key to her room. When she entered she closed the door and leaned on it with her hands fused to her chest. Then she touched the tip of her lips with great delicacy and let out a deep sigh.

“What were you doing? Don’t you have any dignity left?”

Stunned, Vegeta walked to the door and greeted Zamasu without much ceremony. He closed the door and stroked his forehead. Suddenly he felt an unbearable desire to hit something. He was frustrated, incredibly accelerated. With the chest agitated and the skin ignited. He lay back on the bed and tried to get rid of all the dark thoughts he had just had in order to get some sleep, but it was very difficult for him to sleep in the place where he had imagined himself taking Bulma.

In the same way was so tired, so exhausted from traveling and not sleeping, from having to tolerate her...

The door opened later and he was startled. Strangely it was darker, he wasn’t sure how many hours had passed. He heard the creaking of the wood of the door and watched the approaching figure. The door closed behind her, and she walked timidly to the foot of the bed. When the moonlight illuminated her face, he realized it was her.

She wore her hair down, and she was wrapped in a thin sleeping garment. She seemed cold, she hugged herself and caressed her arms softly.

She had the same shy expression that he had seen when she left the room, and the same defiant, if reluctant, look.

“What are you looking for?” He asked, sitting on the bed.

She circled the bed carefully and when she was standing next to him, she leaned over his face. Then she kissed him sweetly, carefully. It barely touched the soft skin of his lips. The suffocation returned to invade him, he wanted her so much that this delicate kiss was not enough for him. He took her by the neck with suspicion and with the other hand dragged her on the bed.

Carefully she sat on him, her turquoise hair falling cascading over his face. He kissed her urgently, with the need to sink inside her body in each kiss. He felt her timid tongue inside his mouth and anxiously ran his hands over her back, carefully removing her clothes. He stripped her shoulders and kiss on her neck, feeling her hands move gently through his hair.

He laid her on the bed and placed himself on her to let her truly feel how much he wanted her. Then he heard a rumble by his ear and annoyed turned to see him.

His alarm clock read eight o'clock at night. He took the device between his hands and forcefully threw it on the other side of the room. He sat on the edge of the bed and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

"Damn it ..." he whispered when he realized he was completely alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope there is no more spanish in this chapter, I read it like four times. I guess you have to take some distance to notice some things when your head gets too warped up. Thank you for the kudos and comments, you make really happy :)


	10. Chapter X

* * *

** IN YOUR HANDS **

* * *

 

Chapter

X

* * *

 

She couldn’t forgive him for that heinous bet he had waged with Black. According to her, he had brought into play her privacy, her decorum, and he had done so with such brutal ease that he didn’t deserve to be forgiven. In fact, he hadn’t even apologized. He had never stopped to give her an explanation, however insipid it might be.

She couldn’t forgive him all for a few kisses. Of course not, she could be poor, she could be a disgraced orphan, but she still had a little dignity inside her body and that same dignity was what forced her out of the room when Zamasu knocked on the door.

She felt more fortunate than the first time they had been so abruptly interrupted. She wasn’t sure how she was going to face the Count after what had happened. After being so obviously exposed to what they were hiding, barely.

Already reclining on the bed, contemplating the ceiling of her room, she began to list all the reasons why she should never kiss Vegeta. In the middle of that, she felt like she was trying to convince herself of something she already knew well, but that really didn’t want to hear.

When she went down to the hotel’s restaurant, noticed the feverish bustle of the group of men with whom she had traveled. Bulma approached cautiously only to realize that the Count's face was not between them. Immediately all the defenses that were building when going down the elevator were lowered, but the hand of Black taking hers to escort her to her seat took her by surprise, right next to him.

She didn’t know how to belittle him in front of so many people without being rude, so she accepted Black's gallant invitation and sat down next to him. Next to him, on the other side, was Zamasu and she tried at all costs to avoid meeting his gaze. She was petrified by the kind of ideas he might have taken after seeing her leave Vegeta's room.

“What a pleasure to see you again. I would like to ask you a question... It's not that we need his presence, but I'm still the host of this event... if I may ask, where is the Count?”

She didn’t know. Actually, she expected to find him there, reunited with the rest. He hadn’t gone to her room for them to come down to dinner, nor had she touched his door to make sure they went down together.

"I don’t know," she answered.

Black was attentive, he had an enviable facility to create frames within his mind and when he finished weaving, he smiled caressing his chin.

“Ah...” he said elongating the word in his breath.

“Ah?” She questioned him immediately.

She knew there was a subtext, something unspoken in that monosyllable. Nothing that came from him was so simple.

“Don't you imagine where would he be?”

Bulma wasn’t sure if he was really asking or if he was inviting her to create scenarios with him.

“No, and I'm not interested either. Can we order now?”

"Of course," he smiled at her with the same furtive expression.

While Bulma delicately arranged an embroidered napkin on her lap, Vegeta walked briskly down the corridor. They looked at each other for a brief moment in which she didn’t fail to notice a subtle movement of his eyebrows, perhaps invisible to the rest, but notorious for Bulma. He was upset.

After awakening petrified from his sleep, he noticed the growing hardness of his member and hurried to the shower. He submerged without hesitation about the cold water, still incredulous for what had just created by his own imagination. Uncomfortable with himself, he dressed his suit and after corroborating that he was late for dinner, he hurried out to find the cause of his nightmares sitting next to his worst enemy.

It wasn’t funny to see her there, so comfortable, it was rather repulsive. Although Black's unseemly stare was more repulsive... he ran his neck sideways, as if no one was noticing. But he had noticed, and to his dismay the only free seat was right on the other side of the table.

Vegeta apologized for his delay without explaining and took a seat. He ordered his dinner and ate without speaking to anyone.

Black instead, and, as usual, entertained the group with his hilarious anecdotes. He was charming at supernatural levels. Bulma watched him closely, admiring his devastating personality, realized how charismatic he was, how easy and fascinating he could be. She had no doubts about why her father might have been delighted to invest in any business he could offer, it was clear how captivating his personality was. There was a certain attractive air about him, so enveloping for those who couldn’t see his true nature. And perhaps even for those who could see it, her father's scandal had been too public to be ignored, yet he didn’t seem to have suffered too much from the consequences. Maybe Black was one of those characters that are impossible to hate. Except for her.

The Count noticed some time later that he was not the only one outlining an unpleasant expression on the table. Every time he saw the group join in a loud laugh for some witty comment from the baron, Zamasu pressed his lips with premeditation trying to simulate a friendly smile. Actually, the image it conveyed was more uncomfortable, a little angry. He seemed to be counting the minutes for that dinner to end and watched with suspicion the Black's glass, waiting for it to reach the end.

When dinner was over and the group animatedly drank, Black took the opportunity to make a toast. He took the glass in his hands and lifted it for a waiter to fill it.

"I'm going to take liberty of proposing a toast," he began in a calm, seductive tone. “A toast for us, for this business that... if you excuse my modesty,” he said and smiled, "will make us all disgustingly rich.”

He raised his glass in the air and the investors beside him joined in raising theirs.

Vegeta didn’t escape the obvious way in which Bulma ignored her glass of white wine. She took the napkin and left it beside her plate once she had finished her dinner and waited for the toast to end without paying too much attention. She couldn’t help but notice the way in which Vegeta raised his glass without much care and drank from it, without neglecting Black for a moment.

"If you gentlemen excuse me," Bulma said, rising from her seat. "I'm sorry I cannot accompany you any longer, I'm very tired so I’ll retire to my room. Have a good night…”

"See you tomorrow," Black said in his usual accustomed gallant tone.

“Good evening, baron.”

After retiring, she took one last look at Vegeta, who was still sitting at the end of the table drinking a sip of wine. She retired to her room and it was impossible for her to hide how upset she felt. Her face curled in a sad grimace and when she closed the door behind her she leaned over it contemplating the possibilities that that kiss would had thrown her.

The shower that she took didn’t help her to divert her thoughts to some less forbidden subject, so, after brushing her long straight hair, she began to review her notes by candlelight. She was wrapped in her bedclothes when she heard a strange noise not far from her.

At first it caught her attention for a very brief moment and then turned her attention to her notes, but the sound repeated itself and Bulma remained in total silence with the intention of deciphering what was she hearing.

Suddenly heard the lock of her room creak and watched with a frozen face as the knob bent, however, the door didn’t open.

She had left the key inside the lock, which prevented whoever was on the other side of the door from entering.

Bulma ran barefoot to the door and heard a groan from the other side, she could swear that someone had made an expletive to realize that the look had a key. She was careful not to give herself away when she leaned her ear against the door to hear more clearly. He was still there, trying to open the door, but he did it meticulously, with extreme care not to make too much noise.

It was late, but surely the corridor was still lit and anyone could see him trying to enter. She feared that if she shouted she would only hasten the work of that bandit and catch her faster when he knew she was awake. But just when she had the courage to scream with all her strength, she heard his footsteps move away from the door and disappear down the corridor.

She was very careful to open the door and take a look at the corridor, totally uninhabited. Then closed the door and still in her nightclothes and without picking her hair, ran to her bed, took her belongings with great urgency and left the room. Not without first closing it with a key.

She walked barefoot down the aisle, carrying her things with difficulty and with increasing desperation disturbing her chest. As she ran, she tried to remember the number of his room, she had seen it clearly when he slammed the door right in front of her nose in the morning, she had seen it that afternoon one more time...

304, she thought.

She knocked on the door and approached as if they shared a secret.

“Vegeta?” she whispered.

She was afraid that the bandit who had tried to get into her room was still nearby and could hear her. She knocked again on the door, more desperately, but he didn’t answer.

“Vegeta!” She demanded in a low voice, but he didn’t answer.

She heard some footsteps approaching and desperately took the handle with the intention of pulling it until he woke up, but to her surprise found the door open. When entering, the room was in darkness.

The Count wasn’t in his room. Bulma left her things by the bed and found it in tatters. Sat on the edge and wondered where he was. If he had left the door open it would probably not be long before he returned.

He hadn’t noticed, and that was very unlike Vegeta. He used to be very thorough in everything he did, but that afternoon, after that terrible dream, he had gotten out of bed dragging an immeasurable bitterness that managed to shake slightly with a cold shower. However, it was still present when he left the room and forgot to lock the door. Since dinner he hadn’t returned, he stayed to continue drinking after the toast without sharing too much conversation.

He felt the urgent need to be away from Bulma, for as long as possible. The next day another day together in a train awaited for them and he would do everything in his power to stay away from her.

He still couldn’t shake out of his mind those images that his disturbed mind had created. Bulma crawling on the bed, sitting on him, feeling her hair caress his face when they joined in an imaginary kiss. He remembered her bare shoulders illuminated by the moon's petty light and the way the lace fabric of her nightgown fell over her arms, exposing her…

 

He took another drink in one gulp and asked a waiter to keep filling his glass. Little by little he saw the gentlemen get up from the table, it was already quite late and the kitchen was already closed.

Black and Zamasu said goodbye to him on the other side of the table, with a simple gesture. But Vegeta could swear that he had seen them have a small quarrel in a low voice, without anyone noticing.

Being the last one to retire would be embarrassing to continue drinking there, alone. But maybe it would be less embarrassing to continue drinking at the bar counter.

Vegeta stood up still with a glass of whiskey in his hand and walked to the bar, left his jacket on the back of a chair and his glass in front of the bartender before excusing himself to go to the bathroom.

He began to feel the heaviness of alcohol freeing him from the use of his peripheral vision. When he washed his hands with cold water, he heard a familiar voice in the corridor, on the other side of the wall and next to the door of the men's room.

“You are taking this too far.”

He could have bet his fortune on knowing that voice, but he had only rarely heard it twice to recognize it immediately. So, he fell silent and tried to listen more carefully.

“Stop right now! it's going to get out of your hands. You cannot continue with this!”

“I have it totally under control.”

It was Black, there was no doubt. And if the second voice was the Baron, the first would surely be Zamasu. But what were they talking about?

“You are insane! You're going to stop with this, when will you understand that you deserve more?”

“Of course I deserves it, because it's what I want. We've never had this kind of disagreement, and we're not going to start now because you know that you're finally going to help me get everything I deserve. Am I lying?”

Vegeta didn’t hear any response, what he heard was Black's cynical laughter and then a few steps away. Then an indecipherable murmur followed and by the time he opened the door they had retreated down the hall.

He returned to his seat carrying the incipient doubt generated by the conversation he had just heard. He took a sip of whiskey as he tried to remember his words exactly and tried to give them a meaning, but honestly, he didn’t know what they were talking about. What was certain was that he had been deeply disturbed and somehow, he knew it, he knew it had to do with Bulma.

After all he had made clear what his intentions were with her and that care in his voice when he spoke to Zamasu about what he wanted brought her to his mind. He didn’t talk about her as the companion he had chosen, but as an essential accessory, a rare object that he had to have without discussion. Something that would complete the perfect painting he had created for himself.

As he thought about each word in depth, he neglected his glass of whiskey on the bar and someone who had sat next to him took it and took a sip. Vegeta looked at her sideways without neglecting his pensive face.

She smiled at him, apparently had drunk a few drinks before that sip of whiskey.

“Long time no see, Count.”

"Not enough," he said, as he asked the bartender for a second glass of whiskey.

The lady laughed again, as if she hadn’t realized that Vegeta was talking seriously.

“Why did you never take me to dinner? I've been waiting for your invitation a long time ago.”

“I have seen you eat… I don’t have an urge to lose my fortune on that.”

She gave him a light blow to the shoulder that made Vegeta lose a few drops of whiskey from his glass. He turned to her, as she seemed to require his attention and noticed her attire.

Diana had the biggest breasts she had ever seen, and could still grapple with gravity. The yellow corset she wore hugging her waist impressively highlighted her attributes and then remembered her among his sheets. While she was one of the most self-centered and boring women he had ever met, she was one of the best in bed.

Coincidentally Vegeta brought with him a latent urgency under his pants that he hadn’t been able to satisfy, so he suddenly began to tolerate her audacity.

“And what are you doing here?”

"It's not something I'd like to talk to you about, or something that concerns you. But I do have a proposal that may interest you, but I would have to explain it to you in my bedroom.”

“Your proposal sounds interesting. I think I have one on mind for you too”

“I don’t really care about what you need tonight, but will see.”

Vegeta paid the bill and told Diana to follow him to his room. On the way he observed her very animated, probably a product of alcohol, probably they were too drunk for that.

He told her a couple of things about her trip that the Count ignored and when she was about to tell him about her mother, Vegeta leaned over and placed a finger on her red lips.

"Shh..." he said authoritatively and she bit her lip.

They walked together to room 304 and at that moment, while Vegeta checked his pockets, he realized that he had left the keys on the night table and hadn’t closed the door when leaving. He took the knob and pushed the door, turned on the light of the room and while the two entered, the shreds of the bed were removed between moans and when the sheets fell the figure of Bulma was discovered.

She yawned naturally and rubbed her eyes, then looked at her with a confused face and her gaze found him, totally annoyed.

As he turned his face to Diana he felt s sudden burning exploding on his cheek, she had slapped him really hard.

“This was what you had in mind!?” The redhead woman questioned.

“Who is she?” Bulma questioned while he was still trying to articulate an answer for Diana.

"No one," he said to Bulma.

“No one?!” Diana cried trying to hit Vegeta for the second time, but he managed to get rid of her strokes. “Fine! Stay with that bitch!”

“Bitch?!” Bulma exclaimed, rising at full speed on the bed.

Seeing her making a direct route to Diana, Vegeta took the redhead by the shoulders and took her out of the room before closing the door and standing firmly between them. He heard the door rumble on his back and a few insults, but she finally left.

Bulma didn’t spare curses, she squeezed Vegeta's shirt between her hands, but he was not going to allow them to create a bigger scandal than they were already causing and once he heard Diana leave, he took Bulma by the shoulders and restraining his anger he asked:

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“You would know if you hadn’t been out all night!”

“Are you trying to control me?”

“Of course not!”

“Why are you sleeping in my bed?” He complained having her warped in his hands. “Do you want to drive me crazy, woman? What do you want?”

“What are you saying!?” She replied suddenly blushing. “Someone tried to enter my room! I came looking for you... but you weren’t here, the door was open so I decided to wait for you.”

“Sleeping in my bed?”

Exhausted, he released her and turned, caressing his forehead, trying desperately to regain his composure.

“I was tired! You were out for hours, hours!”

He let out a sigh, simulated calm and even with his face enraged he turned to see her. She was dressed in her sleepwear and her hair was disheveled, she had crossed her arms and was as angry as he was.

“Someone tried to enter your room?” He finally asked, watching her closely, trying to make sense of what was happening.

“Yes, I guess they thought I was asleep... They could not open the door because I left the key in the knob and whoever it was, left. I came to look for you, but you weren’t here... I see that you were very busy, my most sincere apologies, my Lord.”

Vegeta ignored Bulma's haughty tone and took the door knob without saying anything.

“Where are you going?! You are leaving me alone!” She said walking behind him and clung to the door frame while he walked directly to Bulma's room across the hall,

"Come back!" She said lowering her voice. “Don’t you dare leave me alone, I am too fragile and delicate to be going through this.”

Ignoring her words, Vegeta walked to the door and at first, he noticed that it was ajar. As he approached, he noticed that the lock had been removed almost completely, enough to open the door, even if the key was in the middle. He pushed the door and turned on the light. The room was a mess, the sheets were on the floor and the mattress had been turned over. The wardrobe’s doors had been open completely. Vegeta’s didn’t even felt drunk after seeing that.

Bulma had done well to leave the room when she did. He took a few steps around the bed, hoping to find some indication of who might have broken in there, but found nothing. When he retraced his steps, he found Bulma still clinging to the door frame with an expression of resounding horror.

“And?”

“Definitely someone was there. Did you go to talk to the manager?”

“Well, no…”

“Is there anything of value that you still have?” He asked in a more serious tone. “No... everything that had value I committed long ago. I have nothing but my clothes and my notes.”

Inside, Vegeta sensed that Black could be involved in all of that. After the conversation between him and Zamasu, he had no doubt that something had been planned. Especially if Bulma had absolutely nothing of value. He had noticed that the drawers of her room hadn’t been opened, only those places where someone could hide like under the bed or in the wardrobe had been scrutinized. Of course, someone was looking for her, unless the person who had interrupted there had made a mistake and they were looking for someone else. Although it would be an opportune coincidence.

“I’ll look for the manager, I’ll raise a formal complaint.”

“Come back quickly!”

“Shut up and lock the door.”

Bulma immediately followed Vegeta's orders, closed the door and waited patiently for about fifteen minutes until he returned. She opened the door and awaited his news.

“They are going to interrogate all the staff, maybe one of them is involved or saw something suspicious. They had reimbursed me the value of the room.”

She sat on the bed and calmly thought about what had just happened and the question the Count had asked her before leaving.

“Do you think they were looking for me?”

He was not sure about if he should share with her the suspicions he had about Black, but judging from her worried face she had thought it too.

"Probably..."

He refused to reveal the conversation he had heard. Fortunately, they had failed in their attempt to kidnap Bulma and as far as he knew she would be safe in his room. He doubted anyone would dare to attack her while there.

“I suppose we must sleep, in a few hours we have to get on a train.”

She naturally laid down on the bed and placed a cushion in the middle of the double bed, covered herself again with the blanket and looked at him with a frown.

“And don’t even think about crossing the line.”

Vegeta's face stained crimson for a moment and faded to the other. He smiled wryly and looked at her cocking his face. How naive.

“I'm not going to sleep with you, you ridiculous woman. They offered me a room, stay here I don’t think anything will happen to you. I’ll come to look for you in the morning.”

“Oh no. You cannot leave, what if someone comes in while I'm sleeping?”

“I suppose you'll scare them away with your horrible hairstyle.”

“I'm serious!”

“Then go to the other room! That’s not my problem.”

“'m not going to leave, I wouldn’t feel safe. Do you want me to get killed?”

"They would be doing me a favor." He grinned and received nimbly the cushion that Bulma had thrown at him. “It's fine, I'll stay. Stop being so scandalous.”

 “Well, just don’t go over the pillow.”

“Oh no, the bed is mine.”

“But it's big enough to share!”

"Only if you were under me." But he did not mean to give it the connotation that Bulma heard in that sentence and mentally lamented what he had just said to her, "That is, no... Just get off the damn bed!”

“I'm not going to sleep on the sofa!”

"Then sleep on the floor."

He grabbed her ankle and dragged her to the floor with the sheets.

“You're insane if you think I'd sleep in the same bed as you.”

She quickly covered her thighs and reluctantly accepted that she would sleep on the sofa against the wall. She took the sheets and the pillow that Vegeta had under his arm and improvised a bed. When she was ready to insult her Lord once more, she turned her face over her shoulder with the words in her mouth and watched him stir the shirt over her torso.

Her face immediately turned red, she bit her tongue and turned to the wall. Vegeta had noticed the horror on her face knowing that he was getting undressed right there in front of her, but he wasn’t going to be so cheeky as to change his pants in the same room. With a machiavellian smile on his face he retired to the bathroom and when he returned with his bedding on, Bulma had already wrapped herself between the sheets.

There were few feet separating them, only two feet of an embroidered carpet and a night table, the width of a window facing the street.

The Count went to bed not before turning off the lights in the room and making sure the door was properly closed. At least if someone tried to enter, he had to step over him to get to her, and that would probably be complicating Black's plans.

Bulma seemed completely relaxed now that she was in his company, or perhaps she only had an impressive sleeping capacity, but within minutes of having turned off the lights he could already hear the whistle of her nose musicalizing her breathing.

He turned on the bed when he heard her, he could still see her in the darkness as the curtains were ajar. The moonlight illuminated her cheek and chest covered with sheets. Suddenly she stirred throwing half of the covers to the floor, lay down on her shoulder, leaning toward him. Her snoring diminished noticeably, now he only heard a whisper of breath. The silhouette of her torso didn’t go unnoticed. Nor the way in which her breasts fitted perfectly one on top of the other, wiggling on her breathing.

He was sure that if he put his hand close enough to pull the small bow on her chest, in the fabric of his nightgown, he would give her torso the freedom to discreetly show him what they really were like. And if they were as he had fantasized them in his dream. But he wouldn’t dare to do something like that, of course not. It was just an idea that crossed his mind wildly and morally had to discard it. Even if curiosity invaded him.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been waiting for an art of destiny to pull herself from that knot, but at some point in the night she complained again crawling on the couch. Bulma's whimper made his skin bristle, reminding him of so many other moans of pleasure he had heard.

Deep down he wanted to turn on the bed and fall asleep, but something, also deep inside, prevented him from completely losing that image. Bulma turned around, dragged one leg up to her navel and lay down on her torso. Bulma's bare leg bathed in the moonlight.

Vegeta's eyes widened when he noticed the way the curve of her backside was drawn. His pulse quickened, if she moved a little more, she might end up showing more than he had expected. But he could not, he would be taking full advantage of Bulma's state of unconsciousness and that couldn’t be allowed.

It took all of his willpower, but he finely turned, facing the door of the room and stood there, staring at the knob solemnly, arms folded and frowning. He heard her moan again and a drop of cold sweat ran down his forehead. He pressed his eyes hard and concentrated on his breathing. He was better than that, but finally when the alarm rang loudly, he felt that not even ten minutes had passed... One more night without any sleep...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am really happy to know that some of you are liking this story. I was sure that when I published I wouldn't have any comments, nor kudos, since I am aware that the quality of my English is not optimal. I have many mistakes, even in Spanish, so I am sure that although I do my best I'll miss a few mistakes that I will not be able to notice. I thank you for the kind manner in which you made me notice my errors, I thank you very much. It's difficult for me as a foreigner, I didn't know what to expect from this part of the fandom and I was pleasantly surprised. I thank you very much and I appreciate you, I'll try to translate the next chapter today and try to have it by tomorrow. Thank you again!


	11. Chapter XI

* * *

** IN YOUR HANDS **

* * *

 

Chapter

XI

* * *

 

After waking up she walked to the bathroom with an enviable naturalness and got dressed.

Vegeta felt the burning in his eyes, the product of a fateful night. He watched her sideways going to the bathroom with her things and he tried to get dressed quickly to go to the station as soon as possible.

The heavy feeling of repressed lust began to annoy him too much and he envied tremendously the lightness in with which she moved. He wondered for a moment if she would feel nothing, if there wasn’t something in him that made her knees shake. If she would feel half of the frustration he was feeling. Any other woman would feel it, he knew them well. Anyone else would have jumped into his bed at night, but not her, she had even snored, she had risen from the sofa with her hair more tangled than the night before and could swear she was wiping saliva of her lips with the back of her hand.

He couldn’t finish describing how he felt, rather than using the word _mediocre_. Mediocre for being so disturbed by someone who didn’t seem to be burning with desire like him.

Bulma, on the other hand, hadn’t forgotten the way Vegeta had entered that room with another woman.

At first, she was confused. Awakened by the creak of the door and barely remembering being in Vegeta's room, when she saw her behind him. She was so shocked to see her there as he was to have found her in his bed. Yes, she had made some strange ideas when she went to sleep in his bed. She had felt his smell on the pillow and breathed it deliberately. She smiled without realizing it when she covered herself and waited for him, imagining his face when he found her resting there.

She would never have thought he had found another companion and that he would bring her to sleep with him. The same day that for the second time they were about to kiss. How insulted should she feel? After all, she was still his employee and she knew that she shouldn’t cross that clear line between them. However, it hurt, it burned her chest to know that, if it weren’t for her, he would have spent the night with another woman.

But, of course… she didn’t know that he only considered taking her to bed to get rid of the anxiety that Bulma generated on him. And probably she would never know it since Vegeta wasn’t the kind of man to reveal those tiny details.

“Are you ready?” She asked him slightly indifferently when she came out of the bathroom and picked up her purse.

Bulma noticed that he hadn’t even stopped to see her, arranging the cufflinks of his shirt totally disinterested to her and assumed immediately that what happened the previous day had meant nothing to him.

"Yes," he replied, imitating her tone.

Before going to the lobby, Vegeta waited for the manager. He wanted to know if they had had any news about the break in Bulma's bedroom but apparently no one had seen anything suspicious. He knew that they could make a formal complaint, but that would imply one more day there and if nobody had seen anything it surely wouldn’t be worth it.

Anyway, his only suspect would be with him on the next train.

He would have enough time to stifle him with some questions and after having heard that incriminating conversation, Vegeta knew he could put a little pressure on him.

As he returned to the hotel door to join Bulma while they waited for the rest, he noticed that she was no longer alone. Black had taken advantage of that tiny second in which Vegeta had neglected her, to place himself in front of Bulma.

Deliberately he slowed his steps, trying not to capture his attention so he could hear his words, believing they were completely alone.

“I promise you'll be in good hands.”

“Not a chance, not even if you were the last man on Earth, not even if I were dying of thirst and the last glass of water were in your mansion. Never.”

Bulma's voice was unwavering and, despite that, Black's seemed more and more entertain.

“It's a simple invitation to have tea, nothing else. Nothing you haven’t done before. I'm sure Vegeta will give you a day off... We can, I don’t know… take a talk, get to know each other better.”

He approached her, wrapping her again in his imposing height and lowered his dark gaze to meet Bulma's surprised eyes. He took her by the chin, subtly caressing her lower lip with his thumb. Vegeta's chest suddenly burned and, as he was about to take Black by the scruff of his neck, Bulma shook his grip.

She was going to throw herself on him to slap him as he deserved, when she felt someone putting a hand on her shoulder, inclining her to stop. She turned to see Vegeta smiling face, hiding the exasperation he felt. He wanted to hit him with all his strength, he wanted to erase that cynical smile he always had, the same one that he was sketching at that moment.

“Can’t you stop humiliating yourself just for a moment?” Vegeta questioned him.

But Black didn’t erase his smile, didn’t even stop to return his gaze since he was still watching her. When she finally pulled out of his attention he turned to the Count.

“And how was Diana?”

He put his hands in his pockets and flipped out a pack of cigarettes. He offered one to Vegeta and then to Bulma, but none of then answered. Subtly Bulma shifted away from Vegeta's gloved hand.

“And where were you last night?” Vegeta asked him and his assistant understood immediately his motives.

“Probably I wasn’t having as much fun as you, after dinner I went to sleep. Alone, unfortunately.”

He smoked softly and before he finished, he looked back at Bulma.

“You two should wait for the rest in the station, I’m sure the rest of the investors will be here soon...”

The Count went to the nearest car without saying goodbye to Black and without sharing a word with his assistant. She got into the car quickly and, before leaving, Vegeta turned to the Baron. He watched him with his cigarette hanging from the tips of his fingers, gave it a sip once more and cocked a smile. He really hated him.

“It seems he doesn’t know that Diana didn’t have as much fun as was expected.”

It would be impossible not to catch the mocking tone that Bulma had used to talk about that woman. Vegeta felt that, somehow, she was demanding an explanation without asking for it directly and, of course, he wasn’t going to give in and give it to her. It was his private life and that didn’t concern her.

"I'm sorry I screwed up your night," she continued, facing Vegeta's sepulchral silence.

“What is it that you want? Just say it, damn it.”

Vegeta's iron tone made her tense, she had crossed her arms in front of him in the carriage and he had leaned up to her with his elbows on his knees. She seemed full of resentment and wasn’t sure what to answer.

“What do you mean by that?” She replied in an obfuscated tone.“You could have waited for me sitting on the sofa, why in my bed? Do you think I'm stupid?”

“What are you insinuating?”

“I think I'm being quite direct. I'm tired of you, I want you to end up with this little game of yours because you're going to end up regretting it.”

“Do you think I was trying to seduce you?”

“Exactly, _trying_.”

Vegeta's smirk tilted her stomach.

“And what do _you_ want, Count? You made me undress you! I have bathed you! Don’t come here to tell me that the way you touched me in your personal defense class was very proper. I will not allow you to ruin my reputation with your painful conjectures.”

“I admit that maybe that wasn’t very proper on my part, but what you are doing is much worse.”

“Why?! Because you couldn’t sleep with Diana like you wanted to?”

“Because...”

In his mind the first thing that was formed was _"because you make me want you"_ , but there was no worse humiliation for him than to admit such an error.

“Because your insolence makes me sick. I can sleep with whoever I want, whenever I want and if I didn’t sleep with her last night it wasn’t because of you. I had another room at my disposal, but your absence of decorum took away my desire.”

"You really are an idiot," she finished frustrated.

The road to the terminal was quite long considering that both had been completely silent after that discussion. Bulma had been so hurt by his comment that she preferred to avoid even having to look at him. Never in her life had anyone insulted her decorum when she was a pristine virgin, never in her whole life.

Vegeta hastened to buy another sleeping cart and, without saying much, handed her the ticket that she received in the same way. Fortunately, they were separated by four wagons.

Black soon joined them with the rest of the group. He accompanied everyone to board and diligently noted how both of them avoided each other.

“Can I help you with your bags?”

Bulma was about to reject him for the umpteenth time, but she noticed how Vegeta turned his gaze to them and decided to do something that would maybe bother him.

“You are so polite, Baron. Thank you very much.”

An insult passed through Vegeta's mind, when alarmed he saw how Black put his fingertips around Bulma's waist and carried her suitcase behind her, leaving by the opposite wagon to which he had to board. Before boarding, Black turned to smile at him as if he had once again won in some kind of competition.

He retired tired and extremely obfuscated to his cart. On the way, he came up with convenient excuses to go after him, but it really didn’t concern him what would happen between the two of them. She had to be stupid if she hadn’t considered that Black was the one who had tried to break into her room the night before, did he have to spell it to her? He tried to get how much he bothered him out of his mind, but just as she had no right to question him about the woman he planned to go to bed with, he had no voice over the men she chose to surround herself with.

However, she was his employee. Somehow, he had to have a backlog of right to express his opinion. It’s not as if she were his property, but there were certain norms of morals and good manners that she must unquestionably follow. Black was possibly his business partner, although she didn’t know that he had already thought to reject his proposal. As far as Bulma had understood it was still necessary to give a formal answer to the baron, therefore, they couldn’t have any relationship since it would generate a conflict of interest.

She had to choose, if she wanted to continue to interact with Black she couldn’t work for him in any way. But what if she chose him?

While Vegeta brooded on thoughts that he thought rational, Bulma walked to her cart with Black behind her. Certainly, the baron's turgid gaze burned her back, the path being besieged by her greatest predator seemed really uncomfortable.

Undoubtedly, he had been the one who had broken into her room last night, and she was frightened by the lightness in which he was walking around after such a heinous act.When she reached the door, she stopped and looked coldly at him.

“Thank you for your help, baron, but I can do it alone from here.”He left her bags by the door and leaned his shoulder against the wall.

“Can I reiterate my invitation?”

“After what happened last night? I don’t think so.”

He was surprised, though his appearance of machiavellian joy was still intact. He brought his hands to his pockets and tilted his face as if trying to memorize her features.

“What happened last night?”

“You don’t know?”

“No, but it would be interesting if you told me.”

She registered his infamous face in search of something that betrayed the lie he was trying to hold, but she didn’t know him enough to find those faint details on his expression. For Bulma, it was very simple, he wasn’t going to admit his guilt then there would be no point in continuing to inquire him about an event he would deny responsibility for.

"Maybe another time," she answered, opening the door and he stopped her quickly.

"I'll be waiting for you." He tilted a smile and turned to leave. “By the way... " he added, turning slightly, "I love your dress, it looks stunning on you.”

“Thank you…”

Even Vegeta hadn’t noticed the details of her new dresses, nor the delicate engraving in red thread on the collar of her jacket.

Bulma watched him go away serenely and wondered if he really was involved in what had happened last night. She found herself wandering in all the moments she had shared with him and, if something was clear, it was the interest that he had in her. He had always been open and sincere about it and that was what made her doubt his responsibility in the irruption of her room. However, she should never forget that he was to blame for her greatest tragedy and that was something she could never forgive. She closed the door behind her and decided that she would do her best to avoid both him and Vegeta for the rest of the trip. She took her notebook and began to draw that challenge that her Master had put her. Bulma had to take the reins of her life with her own hands...

Meanwhile, Vegeta had crawled to the bed and tried to sleep the bad thoughts that fluttered in his mind. He tried to blank his mind several times and take advantage of the fatigue he had until he finally fell asleep.When he woke up, he felt just as tired. He sat up on the small bed and, when he looked through the curtains of the window he saw the dark night covering the sky. The moon was the only thing that illuminated the arid landscape. He turned on the light and saw his pocket watch, it was 20:34.

Like the night before, he was almost forced to find the nearest bar to quench his cravings with a drink, maybe gin.

He adjusted the lapel of his suit after storing his watch and got out of the cart. He was tempted to stealthily retrace his steps to see where she was, but he resisted. He couldn’t fall that low.

The atmosphere in the wagon was quite animated, a pianist played a melancholy melody on a small piano against the wall and next to him a few gentlemen drank beer. A couple of Black's investors were there, their faces tinted in red, drunk, laughing in the company of unattractive women.He found a free seat in the bar and sat down without regard. When he finished his first glass, he found himself painfully thinking about her once more. How pathetic he felt.

He couldn’t deny that he wanted her, that he often imagined the pleasure of dragging her onto his bed and making her his. But nothing could be as pitiful as wanting a woman who didn’t want him. Although it was confusing... he was usually quite direct and sincere with his intentions and until now, he had never been rejected. He believed he had the ability to smell desire in women. He could choose one from a lot and would certainly be welcomed with open arms. On the other hand, Bulma had belittled him at first, not so long ago in that nefarious dance, and that contempt had cost her dearly.

He still remembered how shameful it had been for him, the laughter he had heard poorly disguised as he left the room, Tarble’s disheveled face, the strong burning of his own cheeks...

And also remembered why he had chosen her from among all, that day.

He started his second glass of gin while thinking about it. At first everything was clearer; it seemed a divine punishment for her to go to his mansion after what had happened between them. However, there was still a hidden motive behind that _punishment_ and he had sworn he would never reveal it.

He thought that after a couple of jokes, some slight humiliations, she would end up giving up and probably after that he offer her a more normal job like the rest of his maids. But no, something had changed in the middle of that simple plan and he didn’t have the precise answer to explain what it was. He was convinced that it must be that incipient desire he felt for her, that those anxieties were blinding him and he hadn’t found the grabs to get rid of her. Maybe if he took her that urgency would disappear. But what kind of man would he be if he fired her after that?

Finishing the third glass, he realized that he had never expressed her desire concretely. They hadn’t passed a couple of approaches, a little embarrassment, didn’t transcend from simple sensations... Maybe she didn’t want him at all.

What a humiliation...

Maybe it was his divine punishment for pretending to humiliate her. He was confused… He had felt that sense of mutual desire on both occasions when they almost kissed. He had seen her blue gaze wandering on his lips, how her pale neck stretched timidly to kiss him. But he had also seen her running in the opposite direction, had seen her accepting Black's gallantries and then rejected him again. She begged him to sleep with her and then simply sleep, as no other had done before.

Would she be coaxing them? Both he and Black... He was suddenly awakened by an accumulated resentment, which had been hibernating for quite some time. The idea that Bulma might be seducing Black turned his stomach.

As it also made him think about what Black might have planned for her, had he found her asleep in her room when he burst into. Violate her? Kidnap her? What good would it do? Was his mind so twisted as to accomplish such a heinous thing? The inevitable image that came to mind infuriated him and he drank some last drops of gin that burned his throat.

“Can I invite you the next round?”

The unmistakable voice of Black was heard next to him. He took a seat beside him and ordered two glasses of gin. Vegeta took his as if he hadn’t heard him and continued drinking, trying to ignore his presence at all costs and failing in the attempt.

“Any problem? I was told that you were drinking late last night too.”

“I didn’t know I had a babysitter.”

“I take care of my guests…” he answered, making a toast between the two. Vegeta gave a fake and gutunal laugh, observed him holding his grudge and answered him.

“Funny the concept you have about _taking care_... I would call it something like harassment or persecution. That sounds more appropriate…”

“I would call harassment to what you do with your assistant, Vegeta. Zamas told me that yesterday he saw her running out of your bedroom when he called you to dinner. Even I have my limits, how embarrassing.”

"What I do with her is none of your damn business."

He placed his glass on the bar with evident rage and turned to his face. Black enjoyed his exasperated expression. He had been waiting for it for some time and he knew that Vegeta had contained a lot to avoid it, but there it was finally. What he wanted, to destabilize him.

“I suppose that what _I_ do with her does concern you, right?”

“It concerns me when you break into my assistant's room in the middle of the night. That's why you brought us here?”

“What?” He questioned, completely erasing his cynical smile. He frowned and observed him in detail. "What are you talking about?"

Vegeta grabbed him by the shirt and lifted him out of his seat.

“You couldn’t have chosen a worst day to play dumb. I have been waiting for this moment for many years and finally you have given me enough reasons to beat your face.”

"I don’t know what the hell you're talking about." He held Vegeta's wrist tight and he could feel the irritation that was beginning to emanate from his gaze. “Now let me go.”

“What did you want to do to her last night? You, sick bastard.”

"You're insane," he said, pushing him hard on the bar. “I don’t need to do anything to her, she’ll come to be sooner or later, probably running away from you.”

Vegeta's glass exploded against the floor and the silence in the car was interrupted only by the sound of the tracks and the railway as the ferry entered a tunnel. The pianist turned around, neglecting his melody and the jocular laughter ceased, all present waiting expectantly for the conflict between the two gentlemen.Suddenly, the railway started to stop violently. Vegeta held on to the bar to avoid falling and Black from a window frame. The gaming tables and several of those present fell to the ground. They could hear in the distance the screams of the ladies in next wagons along with the screeching of the tracks until finally the railway completely stopped.

The lights blinked, but they returned to normal in a short time. While those present were standing up from the ground they began to question what was happening, more shouts were heard in the front wagons. Confused, they waited, expectant to what would happen later, all watching carefully the door that joined the wagons.Attentive to what he could hear, Vegeta stared at the door and heard the unmistakable sound of a shot that made his skin bristle.

It was a robbery.

They kicked the door and entered raising arms against all the presents. People shouted, some tried to flee through the back door, but were stopped by shots and punches. A man fell to the ground with a bullet wound in the leg, but that didn’t stop the criminals who took him from the collar of his shirt and dragged him to the front of the wagon."Hands up where I can see them," said the taller one who apparently was their leader.

Vegeta watched him closely, wearing a dark handkerchief over his face and his eyes covered with circular glasses, his hair was in a ponytail and covered by a hat. He was wearing a leather outfit that looked expensive and black boots.A second man began to collect the valuables of those present in a sack of cloth. One by one those present were requisitioned, both men and women, while another pointed directly at their heads with a big smile. From one side of the car to the other, they placed the people present with their hands against the walls and then tied them down.

When Black's turn came, he didn’t resist and Vegeta knew that he should imitate him if he didn’t want to cause an even bigger scene. They were too many and he didn’t have a weapon with him.

Cursing himself, he placed his hands against the wall and waited for them to finish. A short fat man peered into his jacket and from his pocket took a watch and wallet and then tossed them like trinkets on the sack. Then, six of the eight who had entered retired to the next wagon and the screams and gunfire were heard again."Bulma is in four wagons away," Black whispered to Vegeta covertly, watching him sideways.Vegeta saw him in the eye, wondering for a moment if that concern was nothing more than a disgusting staging, or if he was genuinely worried about her welfare. But even if it bothered him deeply, it wasn’t the time to inquire about his intentions. Bulma was a few wagons away and those men would arrive at her before him. And she was so fucking scandalous that it was very likely that they would shoot her, or worse, take her away.

“Distract him and I’ll take the weapon,” Black whispered.

“Are you kidding? You distract him.”

“Are we really going to do this now?”

The count peeked over his shoulder at the only man who guarded them with a weapon, while another tied the rest and quickly noticed that he had a gun in his belt.

He knew he couldn’t start arguing with Black at that moment about who would be the decoy. There would be no worse candidate to take care of his back than him, but they had to act fast. Irritated, he gave him a look and nod. The baron understood that he had to prepare himself. Vegeta brought his left hand to his chest and pretended to fall on his knee.

“What's going on?” The man who watched them questioned.Black was surprised and, incredibly, seemed concerned about Vegeta.

He turned to the criminal and stammered a few words.

“I-I think he’s hurt, maybe he's having a heart attack.”

"Go and check," he said to the fat one who immediately approached Vegeta.

Even with his hands on the wall, Black watched the man's journey until he was standing between them. He leaned over to check on Vegeta and, when he was close to his shoulder, the count hit him hard in the face with his elbow. Black acted with incredible speed. He took the gun and immediately fired at the other man's hand causing him to lose his weapon. Vegeta stretched out on the ground and took it, rising on his legs to point the subject in the forehead.

He clearly saw his intention to scream, but Vegeta smiled at him and gestured with his finger to keep him quiet.

"You," he told one of the investors who had not yet been tied up. “Do something useful and immobilize them.”

"Untie the rest," Black said gently to another.

When the railway stopped abruptly, Bulma fell from her bed to the ground and her notes ran down the floor. She had banged her head against the wall and complained about to crying. She raised her face, noticing that the lights of her cart were beginning to fail until it was completely dark. She had noticed that the ferry had entered a tunnel so not even a drop of light could enter through the windows. Blindly, she stretched out her hands and tried to find her purse. In one of the pockets she had left a small box of matches that would be very useful. She found it a few feet away and lit one, then tried to raise her sketches to lay them on the bed. On the outside, she could hear the commotion. Bulma wasn’t sure what was happening, maybe a fault in the tracks or something in the way prevented them from moving forward. It wasn’t until she began to hear screams and shots…

She wasn’t sure if she should get out of her sleeping cart, but a newfound instinct cried out to her to opened the door. She had to see what was happening.

She left her cart and found several people in the hall waiting for the same as her. The front cart exploded amid cries of women and children. Another shot.Bulma knew immediately she had to get out of there. A thin man passed her at high speed and ran to the back door, and behind him the rest of the passengers. They pushed her against the door and almost fell to the floor under them, but she clutched at the latch and when the last one passed under her nose, she ran to the next wagon, clutching her skirt tightly.

The door lit up when the light of the car came back and saw it very close, when an arm surrounded her and dragged her backward. Her heels slipped on the floor and she instinctively brought her hands up to the muscular arm that bound her around the neck. A warm breath brushed her neck and she felt a wet nose behind her ear.

“Quiet, child.”

She smelled the nicotine impregnated in that assailant’s breath and suddenly a rigid object pressed against her in the ribs.

"I have nothing of value..." Bulma babbled as she struggled to stand on her feet.

“I think you can be worth something.”

The pressure on her neck grew stronger with each step she was dragged. She felt like the air was missing and her face began to feel congested. Bulma was scared and began to scratch on the subject's sleeve, but nothing was achieved. Vegeta had explained how to get rid of that, but she was so desperate that she didn’t remember it. Closed her eyes for a second and tried to think. She knew that in a short time he would leave her without air and she would lose consciousness, she couldn’t afford it, she couldn’t be left at the mercy of what they could do to her while she was unconscious.

“ _Think, Bulma, think_...”

She tried to find his center of balance and when she did, she felt that he was choking her even more, but she knew what she had to do or at least try to, to get rid of him. She reached for his leg with hers and locked the inside of his knee with hers. Immediately he lost his balance and she took advantage of that moment to turn around and before she could say it, she had freed herself from him. Euphoric and desperate she wondered what she should do now and remembered the key points that Vegeta had indicated. She punched him in the throat and closed his airway. He put his hands around his neck and let out muffled moans. Bulma remembered his weakest area and took the moment to kick him in the genitals.

He fell to the ground, groaning with one hand on his testicles and another on his throat as he coughed copiously. Bulma saw his weapon on the ground and took it in her hands and although, she didn’t know how to use it, she pointed it at her attacker and heard the front car door open behind her. She turned determinedly, still wielding the gun she had just snatched from that dirty thief and held it up against those who had just entered.

Vegeta and Black watched in amazement, then turned their eyes to the pitiful subject who was crying in distress on the ground and with a puzzled face they saw each other. The count wiped a trickle of blood from the corners of his lips and Black straightened his suit. Behind them lay five miserable and unfortunate thieves, totally unconscious.

Black had finished with two of them and Vegeta with three, but one was able to punch him in the face before he knocked him down. Bulma lowered the gun and looked at Vegeta who seemed to be smiling.

“Are you okay?” She asked approaching and tried to touch the cheek that began to swell.

"It's nothing compared to what happened to that idiot," he said amused. “But one is still missing,” he told Black.

"I’ll go to get him," he answered in a tone full of bitterness.

"So, you learned to defend yourself," Vegeta said, tilting a smile.

“I had to, it seems that I always get in trouble when you're not around.”

"Yes..." he said with a doubtful expression. “Almost as if someone knew you were alone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you like this one, I made a great effort to translate it better and I'm really hoping you can notice. Thank you for reading :)


	12. Chapter XII

* * *

**IN YOUR HANDS**

* * *

 

**Chapter**

-XII-

* * *

 

 

She had never experienced such a feeling of exhaustion in her whole life. After arriving at the count's mansion, she fell exhausted on her bed without even putting on her nightclothes. They had had to stop at the police station when the railway stopped and both she and Vegeta testify.

Black hadn’t been able to reach the last bandit, who had taken an important amount of jewelry and money in a sack before leaving on a horse from the mouth of the tunnel.

Vegeta, on the other hand, felt uneasy. The series of coincidences that he noticed occurring during the last hours kept him alert. He knew he couldn’t establish a connection with certainty, but he could feel it. He could sense that everything was linked in some way he did not know. Orchestrated in some way by _him_.

In spite of the security he felt there were certain small details that disconcerted Vegeta. Black's confused look as he confronted him about the theft in Bulma's hotel room was one of them. He looked so sincere in his ignorance that he couldn’t help but doubt. He knew perfectly what kind of elusive rat he was, and that was why it was so strange for him to believe a single sentence.

The robbery in the room, the theft to the train and the fact that Black could not find the last thief, were part of an unthinkable plot whose end he couldn’t decipher.

If Black had organized such a deployment, what benefit would it bring him? Did they intend to take Bulma away? And if that was the plan, what did they plan to do with her?

It disgusted him immensely to think what kind of plans they could have prepared for her and although he didn’t want to admit it, it disturbed him to know that she wouldn’t be safe every time she decided to leave his mansion. But why did he worry so much? Yes, she was his employee, like fifteen others. Like the ten stable boys, like his housekeepers, like his accountant. However, he had never felt this way about any of them. He had never seen himself alone at night, wandering around the living room, thinking ghastly ideas about the fate of an employee if it were kidnapped.

He couldn’t stop her from leaving, depriving her of her freedom. Nor was he going to chase her down the street, he didn’t have time for such stupidity. What if he was over reacting?

Eventually he went to sleep without finding an answer to any of his uncertainties. He rested his head on the pillow and closed his eyes, although he couldn’t rest. Bulma woke up early, tried to relax by taking a bath and then dressed to start her day. She felt particularly tense, and a throbbing pain in her neck constantly reminded her how that rogue almost fainted her. She leaned close to the kitchen window and stroked her neck firmly, struggling with the tension lodged there. She observed with some relief the green and illuminated landscape, while a young man combed the hair of Vegeta's horses in the distance, inside the corrals.

Yamcha's familiar smile lit her in the distance, raised his arm and greeted her and she returned the gesture through the window. After crossing a few words with another boy, he approached her quickly and Bulma opened the window to greet him.

“I heard what happened, are you okay?”

“I am, don’t worry about it. I'm just a little tense.”

“Did they hurt you?”

“Luckily they didn’t.”

“The Lord left you alone at the end of the train?”

“It's not like you imagine, I really didn’t want to be near him.”

“Did he mistreat you during the trip? Because if so, I...”

“Don’t.”

Bulma denied rapidly with an exaggerated gesture, but then, deliberated internally if her last exchanges hadn’t been the most disrespectful.

“Okay... anyway, I think it would do you some good to take a little distance from him, maybe he didn’t mistreat you, but I doubt he's completely kind. Maybe you could take a day off, I don’t think he’ll deny it considering everything you've gone through, there's also a carnival very close and several of the boys and I are going tonight, if you like you could join us.”

Yamcha's contagious kind smile crept under her skin and she smiled at him. Maybe a night of fun was what she needed to relax that throbbing pain in her neck.

“Sounds good.”

“At six we'll be waiting for you at the service door. Don’t be late,” he said before leaving, making a threatening face.

Bulma hadn’t taken many days off since she had started working for Vegeta, although she didn’t have many specially assigned tasks, she spent most of the day in the mansion. She certainly needed to take a break from those walls and maybe also from Vegeta. She approached the door of his bedroom and pushed it gently calling for him. The door creaked; however, the sound didn’t wake him up. Involuntarily, a tender gesture appeared on her face. A tight-lipped smile from a woman who was not yet ready to admit what her body could express. Bulma watched Vegeta sound asleep and decided to let him rest. She could still see the blow the thief had given him on the side of his jaw.

She closed the door delicately and made an effort not to make more noise than necessary. Determined to let him rest, she dressed in the light yellow dress she had found on her arrival and waited for hours for him to wake up to tell him she would take the day. But when it came time to meet the rest, Bulma realized that she would have to leave without letting him know. She took a piece of paper and wrote to him. She left it on his desk, thinking that he would surely find it and left to meet Yamcha.

She met his fresh smile again, it made her feel comforted to see him there waiting for her. He took care to present her to the rest and after some cordial greetings and several laughs, they went walking towards the carnival. The employees avoided asking her questions about Vegeta, she could feel how they were contained or avoided naming him directly. Surely by the rule of confidentiality of the Count. Despite the length of the path, the entertaining group made it seem shorter. The music of the gypsies was heard several blocks away, as well as the feverish laughter and the songs of the people. The scent of candy immediately attracted her, and when she reached inside her purse, she rummaged to buy something to eat. Bulma looked up over her head and saw a man in stilts walking a meter above her, dodging the colorful borders and pennants hanging everywhere. They approached a group watching a woman with olive skin and black eyes dancing, while she shook a tambourine and a happy group played a song.

Bulma knew that if she had approached only a few meters to a pagan party of that manner, she would have been harshly criticized by her social class. Now, together with the employees of the count's mansion she went completely unnoticed and felt free of accusations. She stayed watching a puppet show in which the most important gentlemen of the town were represented as buffoons. The children laughed at the clumsiness of the characters. Adults laughed at the hilarious interpretation of their leaders.

"Do… Do you want..." began Yamcha, with a lump in his throat. She observed the dilemma in his gaze. She watched him scratch the back of his neck, look at the floor, then at her eyes and again at the floor. Then he smiled.

“To dance?” she asked him.

The young stable boy nodded, and perhaps that would be the first time Bulma noticed the blush on his face. She was really grateful to him for having taken her out of the mansion for an afternoon and for the way he was smiling when he looked at her. She took his hand and ran to the group that danced in pairs. Yamcha shivered slightly before taking her other hand, but once they started moving to the music, he was able to calm down, at least in sight. Bulma had never danced in such an unstructured way, touching a man hands with such lightness. However, it did not feel offensive, libidinous or improper. It was fun.

Meanwhile Vegeta got out of bed. He sat on the edge and stroked his forehead. He felt slightly puzzled, as if he didn’t remember with precision the last events he had experienced. The seconds passed quickly, while everything settled in his mind and  remembered why he was there. He had arrived at the mansion after a two-day trip in which he had to stop in a small town to testify for the theft of the train. Bulma had accompanied him and he had felt so uneasy during the whole trip back that he hadn’t been able to sleep. Until then. He was surprised to see the sky dyed black behind his curtains. He pushed them aside and examined the landscape. It was night, which meant that he had slept all day, and maybe it was even early in the morning. He lit a lamp next to his bed and looked through his jacket for the pocket watch that had been stolen from him on the ferry. It was nine o'clock at night. His stomach growled loudly, but before going down to the kitchen he went to Bulma's room and stood there. He thought momentarily what he was doing, looking for her in that way. But since it was his house they were in, he told himself that he had the right to knock on the door he liked and he did. He knocked once and waited, but got no answer. He tried a second and a third time. After the fourth time he took the knob and pushed, only to discover that she wasn’t there.

Maybe she was in the library, reading those boring books that she loved so much, he thought. So, he walked to the library, ignoring the roar of his stomach to find her. A despicable thought diminished in the deepest.Maybe they had taken her away.  
After dancing for so long that their feet hurt, the group decided that it would be time to return. Bulma had had such a good time there that she had completely forgotten about the time, she hoped that Vegeta had found her note and not worried about her. She laughed then, that thought seemed ridiculous. Vegeta wouldn’t care about anyone but himself. Even though the mantle of the sky had been dyed dark blue, she didn’t worry. She was in good company and, for a change, she was having a fun.

Still clinging to Yamcha's arm, they left the dance circle and gathered farther from the crowd.

“I want the gipsy to read me the cards before we leave!” said the cook.

Some employees, the most believers and devotees, abstained from joining her. Another commented that someone had read her hand at the last festival and she had predicted that would work for an impenetrable but extremely wealthy man. Bulma was tempted to go after the cook, curious about the ridiculous things they could tell her. She had never believed that anyone would be able to tell her her fortune. She had been educated to stay away from it and but now she questioned it. It seemed fun.

Emma, the cook, hurried into the seer's dark tent.

"I don’t believe in those things," Yamcha added, seeing Emma leave.

"They never told me my fortune," said Bulma.

“These things are not of God.”

“Emma is committing a sin.”

“We are in a pagan party, everything is a sin.”

The cook left the tent a short time later with an expression of enviable joy, Bulma watched her carefully join the group and after hesitating a while ventured to enter the colorful gypsy’s tent.

“Two children! She told me she sees two children in my future, and a very strong husband...” She heard her say as she left.

"I'm coming right back, wait for me," she told Yamcha before entering.

Bulma pushed aside the thick fabric of the tent and pushed through. She watched the round table covered with an improvised tablecloth. Her pits filled with aroma of incense, and mechanically she sat facing the black-haired woman who was waiting for her there. She looked at her and smiled at her strangely, as if she knew something about Bulma that she hadn’t told her yet. As if she knew something funny and was holding her laughter.

“Hello...” Bulma greeted while taking a seat.

“Hello child. What is your name?”

"Bulma," she answered and quickly wondered how good a seer would she be if she hadn’t guessed her name.

“Well, Bulma. Do you want to know your future?”

“I'm not sure... I thought it would be fun.”

"Maybe you’ll find out something you do not want to know," she adjusted her thick black hair curled behind her ear.

“What can be worse than what has already happened to me?”

"I suppose we'll find out."

She took a deck of cards and mixed them in front of her. Bulma watched closely the agile way in which it interspersed. Then she placed them in front of Bulma and asked her to split the deck in three parts, as she liked. The gipsy distributed them on the table face down, one by one with ceremonial attention. Once they were lying down, she began to turn them upside down.

“We'll start with a bit of your past,” she commented as she turned the first row. "Here I see many material goods, excessive wealth, false friends... Expectations... and you," she pointed to a card, "In the middle" she continued turning cards and while doing it she frowned. “Someone dark, with cloudy thoughts appeared in your life. A man, powerful, rich, and he tries to approach you. He will make you believe that he is helping you, but he does not have good intentions, you must be careful.”

“Who?” Bulma questioned.

"The cards don’t say names, but they tell me he's wealthy, he's very attractive, I see dark hair and black eyes. He is a powerful man, he has many friends and you have very strong feelings towards him.”

“Do I like him?”

“I said strong feelings, it could be love, hate, only you know.”

Bulma looked at the cards trying to get some more information that was useful, but she saw nothing. She examined the table and then the woman.

“What else do you see?”

The fortune teller revealed a horrifying card. The arcane of death. A rider holding a black flag with a badge she didn’t know. His face was that of a skeleton, dressed in black armor. On a white steed. The fortune-teller looked at Bulma's pale face and smiled.

"A transformation," she said. “Here is a process of metamorphosis, in your present. You are not the same person, although I still see riches around you. I see friendships, and a love.”

Someone immediately came to Bulma's thoughts, although she was disturbed by how quickly he had come to mind. For a moment she doubted, she had entered there to be told that she would have many children, she would be rich and would have her status back. However, the reading had taken a somewhat murky turn as soon as it started, and although she heard in the words of the seer an obvious similarity with her life, she began to think that perhaps she was taking it too seriously. Maybe the gipsy had only guessed.

“I see several men in your life” she took at a card in her hands and smiled, “This one is very confused. He feels strange... I see loneliness in him, a stormy past. A strong, wealthy man. Obstinate and persistent. Then there is this one,” she pointed to another  card, “He is a good man, with a gentle heart, very different from the other, the tormented one. He has feelings for you and is very sure of that.”

“I don’t have suitors at the moment.”

“They have not yet declared themselves, but they will. In their own way..." she continued, turning the cards in the second row until she found one that looked bleak. “There is another..."

In her face, Bulma detected a hint of unsettling fear,

"Which you must also be careful of... He is distant. It’s difficult to read... I don’t know what his intentions are exactly, but I see something very... dark.”

“Another suitor?”

“No. I don’t see what relationship he has with you. It's hard to explain, but it has a very intense feeling towards you.”

The last rows of letters to be revealed were still missing and Bulma assumed that it would be her future.

“What do the others say?”

“A meeting that will be the beginning of your next life. Something big, it is very important, it will be as much for you as for your loved one. From this moment on, everything you do will have a great impact on your future.”

The fortune-teller turned the last row of cards and when she reached the end she held her breath. Her smile had vanished and, while Bulma watched expectantly, she analyzed the card.

“The tower,” she finally said. “This letter symbolizes great changes that are beyond your control. Someone else's decisions that will directly affect your life and there's nothing you can do about it,” she continued turning the letters and was frustrated when she turned the last one. “The devil…”

“Am I going to die?”

“No... not necessarily. It is again this person who will change your life... It will not be for something good, it is something very bad. The cards only reveal to me what will happen until this day when you will see the face of the devil. I cannot tell you what is going to happen, I can only tell you to be cautious and not make decisions impulsively.”

“It doesn’t sound very comforting.”

“I'm sorry, I have nothing more to tell you, child.”

Bulma took some coins from her purse and put them on the gypsy's hand. Before she could leave, she took her hand and pulled her toward her.

"Take care of those men, Bulma. Stay away and my omen may not be fulfilled.

She withdrew her hand with a certain dread and quickly left the tent. Once outside, the festival songs wrapped her up again, but she was still absorbed in the horrifying reading she had received. She put her hand to her chest, stifling an uncomfortable feeling that she couldn’t explain. The bad omen that had been read her got inside.

Yamcha noticed Bulma's obtuse expression and took her by the shoulder, but she jumped like a helpless little animal. Then she calmed down when she saw him, however, that expression of panic didn’t go away. Bulma looked at Yamcha’s dark eyes, dark hair... If it weren’t for the few coins he had in his pockets she would have wondered if he was one of those men with bad intentions who followed her. But no, she knew immediately when she saw his warm smile that he was that man with a pure heart who would soon declare himself. Bulma had no doubts.

Vegeta, meanwhile, had completely toured his mansion, twice. The Count had scanned every room and, although his pride hurt him, he was increasingly inclined to ask his employees about Bulma's whereabouts. How had she dared to go out that way without his consent? However, the minuscule possibility that someone has entered his mansion to take her was intruded on his thoughts.

They had done it in their hotel, maybe they would have taken her in that assault if she hadn’t resisted. There was the possibility that all of that was orchestrated and still was. When he couldn’t bear the uncertainty, he shouted the name of a maid who appeared running, terrified.

"Do you know where _Miss Briefs_ is?” he questioned mocking Bulma's last name.

The employee was dismayed by her lord's question. Just seeing her expression was enough for Vegeta to know an answer.

“I do not, Sir.”

“Find someone who does. NOW.”

Like a beast, he wandered from one place to another, waiting for an answer. He was about to leave through the front door to knock down the Baron's and demand him to tell him Bulma's whereabouts. After all, he was his employee. And that was when he heard the cheerful laughter of his employees who came walking at a calm pace trough the streets. He pulled the curtain and found her among the group. She smiled as he had rarely seen her do. At her side, escorting her by the arm was the stable boy who suddenly seemed the most useless of them all.

He was as angry with her as he was with himself, having been involved in an internal scandal that was bordering him to end the fight that had begun with Black in the train wagon.

Gritting his teeth, he turned in his footsteps. He walked directly to the nearest library and poured himself a glass of whiskey from the small bar.

"Stupid woman," he mumbled.

Oblivious to all the torment she had caused Vegeta, Bulma laughed with her companions at the service entrance. She released Yamcha's arm and smiled at him. Suddenly everyone seemed to receive a signal, and they began to retreat quickly. She knew immediately, they wanted to leave them alone. She remembered the words of the seer, two men would declare themselves... each in his own way. Unfortunately she knew that statement was one she couldn’t accept.

"I had a great time today," he said, struggling to get something out of his lips that made him extremely nervous.

“Me too, I hadn’t have fun like that in a long time.”

Bulma looked at the windows of the mansion, wondering if Vegeta had already woken up.

“There's something that…”

“Bulma!”

They both turned around when they heard the scream. A girl ran in their direction holding her skirt tightly. She was terrified. She reached out breathlessly to the couple and stopped to catch her breath, but was so hasty in speaking to her that she continued to gasp.

“The master... is... looking for you.”

The panic spread to Bulma. She opened her big blue eyes and looked with awe at Yamcha, who still had a speech stuck in his throat.

“I have to go.”

She ran to the mansion, relieved that she didn’t have to face Yamcha and have to reject him. At the same time worried about the haste with which Vegeta was looking for her. She toured the mansion’s ground floor and couldn’t find him. Then she went to his room and from a distance heard some steps in the library. She approached cautiously, not wanting to be the target of Vegeta's wrath. Not after having spent such a good day.

“Vegeta?” She asked softly.

He wasn’t facing her. A hand in a pocket of his tailored trousers, another warped in a glass. Even in that position she could see an angle of his chiseled jaw, and saw him sketch a slight, lopsided smile. He didn’t turn to look at her, took another drink of the whiskey he held and put the glass on the small bar.

“Were you looking for me?”

“Where were you?” he questioned in a tone beyond the grave that made her skin crawl.

“I went to the festival...”

“With whose permission?”

“I left you a note in your office.”

"That doesn’t answer my question," he said, turning around.

“I didn’t want to wake you up, you looked so tired…”

“Then you decided that you would go out without my permission, without telling anyone where the fuck you were.”

He watched and raised an eyebrow, crossed his arms and incredulous continued.

“Tell me you're kidding. How long have you been drinking? I left a couple of hours, what's the difference?”

He approached her like an animal, pouncing on his prey. Bulma suppressed the instinct to take a step back and stood firm. With a frown she faced him. She held his gaze in exasperation, waiting for his claims.

"That time is mine," he said. "I pay you to be here and most of the time you do absolutely nothing. If I want to have you here, you will be here. I don’t pay you to go for a walk with the stable boy.”

The Count's gaze traveled with disgust through Bulma’s body until her feet on the ground, he turned around and concluded his conversation. He was be unable to perceive the anger that had subsided in Bulma's small body. Without meditating, she took him by the arm, forcing him to face her. He was exalted to see how her petite figure lurched threateningly towards him. She raised a hand and pointed at his.

“YOU! How dare you look at me like that?! HOW DARE TO INSINUATE THAT I HAVE SOMETHING WITH YAMCHA?! The only reason I left this mansion is because all I do is be locked in here with you. And I think I deserve a break after everything that has been happening to me. Because of you! If you hadn’t taken me to that stupid trip, none of this would have happened. Do you have any idea how tired I am after all this?! I could have died! I! A delicate and fine lady like me shouldn’t be going through these calvaries. THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!”

Vegeta had been cornered, retreating in his footsteps, as she yelled her complaints. When he felt the bar wobble behind him, he tried not to turn over his drink. Enraged by everything he had just heard, he lashed out at her.

“My fault? How is it my fault that you are such an easy target!? The only thing I've done all this time is to protect you, stupid and ungrateful woman. I should have left you in the streets when you came knocking on my door. I should have let you die of cold! And this is how you pay me? All I want is for you to tell me where the fuck you are!”

“It's not my fault you're not able to read a stupid note!”

Bulma hit her back on the library. Suddenly their breath mixed and the reason for their closeness became diffuse. Bulma's embarrassed face from so much screaming, was just inches from his and, although he hated himself for it, he was dying to kiss her. However, he was so obfuscated by this crossing of words that at the same time he wanted to throw her out on the street so as not to see her again. Irritated by his confused thoughts, he pounded the library with his fist, over the face of his employee. She watched the Count directly at his turbulent black eyes. She felt helpless and suddenly he hit above her. Some books fell to the ground and now she was surrounded by the cage of his muscles. She didn’t want to scream at him anymore, although she continued to be exalted. Her heart hadn’t stopped beating violently throughout the discussion. But even though they were now completely silent, her heart seemed to inflate strongly than before.She wanted him. And he did too.  
After that explosion of testosterone, Vegeta was terribly tempted to terminate that fight with himself and finally get entangled in it. He didn’t hesitate, looked directly at her lips painted light pink and approached her. His kiss was in the air, because after throwing himself at her, Bulma bent down to pick up the books that Vegeta had thrown to the ground. Frustrated, he watched her and felt he would go crazy.

“What are you doing?” he questioned.

“My job.”

Vegeta would have thrown down the entire library at that very moment, if it weren’t for Bulma's moan when he took a step back and, looking down at her, he watched her crawling on the floor in his direction.

“My hair!” shee exclaimed in horror.

The Count took another step and she crawled against him again. Immediately he understood that a bluish lock had become entangled in the button of his trousers. Bulma crawled against him with the intention of removing the knot hair, but that meant touching the most intimate part of her Master and he wasn’t willing to allow it.

“Stop moving!” she complained.

“Remove your hands from there!”

“I’m not doing it on purpose! Ah!”

With every step Vegeta took to get away from her, she let out a sobbing moan and approached him to free herself. He put a hand on his pants and he felt the warmth of his sex shudder. He felt himself throbbing in the most intimate place and feared that it would end up exciting him so much that he couldn’t hide it. He took two steps back, restless and she crawled to his crotch screaming for him to stop. He hit a desk and a container of ink fell to the floor, a feather flew and a graphite pencil rolled across the desk. Vegeta turned around, Bulma had knelt in front of him trying to undo the tangle of her hair. But each step they had taken had united them more. Once she was up on her knees, she heard a metallic sound and her hair stopped pulling at her scalp. A thick lock fell to the ground. She observed still without noticing what had happened, then looked up and found Vegeta with a pair of scissors in his hands.

The Count's heart galloped with haste and fierceness, but he began to calm down when he felt that he had freed himself from the resounding touch of Bulma's hands. He let out a sigh, knowing that she hadn’t discovered it.She seemed confused, but a few seconds later she realized that the strand that died on the floor was hers. She took her snowy hand to her long hair and ran it with her fingers, discovering that next to her cheek she had an irregular and inconsistent cut in relation to the rest. He had cut her hair... He cut her hair!

“What did you do!” she shouted him.Vegeta felt a strangled cry in her voice.

He noticed in her eyes a few accumulated tears and before starting to cry, she jumped up and ran away leaving him alone. After seeing her leave, he turned his eyes to the hair that had cut and wondered if maybe he had gone too far. He put the scissors on the table and reluctant to what he was doing, walked to his bedroom. He had heard her close the door loudly, and though he feared it was the front door, he wasn’t relieved to hear her cry in her bedroom.

Seldom in his life Vegeta didn’t know what he should do, and that was one those times. An uncomfortable feeling invaded him. Little did he know, he felt guilt, but if he knew it he would have realized what he felt at that moment.Bulma ran to see herself in the mirror and devastated by what she saw, she went to bed to sob. Everything that her hair had represented for her until that moment had disappeared. Realizing that everything she had once been would never be. Her uneven hairstyle was the image of what he had become. A simple employee.She sat on the bed and wiped her face. This was her metamorphosis.She took a pair of scissors from one of her drawers and as she looked in the mirror and remembered her ostentatious curls for the last time.

Uncomfortable, without knowing exactly how to act or what to do, he stopped at Bulma's door once more and after listening to her cry he left. Vegeta didn’t know how to handle that situation, or any similar. And the newfound guilt ate at his chest like he had never felt before. He moved away from his bedroom and, although he decided to stay away, he couldn’t help wandering around waiting to see her eventually leave. A few minutes later he stopped listening to her crying, although he didn’t know if he should feel relieved, because he wasn’t. After an hour, the Count came down and sat down at the table. The silverware was placed with meticulous care, as always, and beside him was Bulma's plate waiting for her.

“Do you want me to take it away, master?” A young girl asked.

He fixed his gaze on the white porcelain piece and answered.

“Don’t.”

“Do you want me to call Mrs. Bulma for dinner?”

Extremely restless, he tried to hide his feelings. He swallowed hard, shifted in his seat and felt the neck of his shirt suffocate him. He pulled the edging tightly over his Adam's apple and took a deep breath.

“If she wants...”

Surprised by the Count's foreign tone, the young lady nodded before retreating. He kept absolute silence, although interrupted by the sound coming from the kitchen, he waited until his employee came back or to get an answer from Bulma that he could hear. It was very difficult for him to collect something of the little that was heard in the distance. He surrendered when he saw her return alone, with a different expression than she had before retiring.

"She doesn’t want to eat,” Vegeta said when he saw her.

“No, in a moment she’ll get down to accompany you, Sir.”

Strangely that revelation had been heard threatening. As if Bulma were going down to take revenge on him for what he had done to her. The time passed tortuously slow, a small group of employees arranged in front of him three different types of salad and a freshly baked turkey that emanated such an exquisite aroma that, in another moment would have forced him to start without her. Despite this, he waited patiently, with a knot in the pit of his stomach.

“You can go now...”

"Yes, Sir," they answered in unison.

Vegeta took a knife, particularly thoughtful. He watched his dinner and wondered if she really would come down, until a few steps not too far away caught his attention and he looked up to see her enter the hall. He gasped when he saw her. The tip of her hair skimmed her shoulders. She walked slowly to the chair next to him and sat down. Her dull face immediately captured his attention. Guilt regretted him when he noticed the bags under her blue eyes. “Do you want me to cut it?” she said in a tone so calm that was chilling. He awoke from his self-absorption and rose from the table. "No," he said quickly and cut off a piece of turkey. He served a portion to her and then to him. He served the salad trying to simulate a normal state, but he couldn’t help losing his furtive gaze on her and her new hairdo.

Unsure of what to say, he remained silent. Eventually the situation became uncomfortable. He had to say something about it. It was his fault, though it wouldn’t have been if she hadn’t bent down when he was going to... Damn it!

"You look different," he finally said.

“It is awful.”

“No, it is not. I mean..." he growled. “All... they look the same. They dress the same, they comb their hair the same. You... you look different.”

“And that's a good thing?”

“I didn’t think you were the kind of woman who likes to be the same as others.”

Bulma looked at him and thought in his words. Maybe she had been in her past, even if she thought she was different. She thought herself better, superior to all those who were in his same stratum. And unattainable for those who weren’t. Although now, examining from another angle, she realized how obscenely ordinary she had been. She screwed a snowy finger into a blue-green lock next to her ear and watched Vegeta. “Is this your way of asking for forgiveness?” He filled his mouth and avoided her gaze. Bulma smiled. She had obtained more from him than any other had. Something similar to what they call a compliment.

“Or is it your way of telling me that I look pretty?”

Vegeta was too embarrassed by this situation to respond. However, he knew it was true, the misfortune that went through Bulma's hair was part of his responsibility. A very large part.

"I... I'm sorry," he said with great difficulty. Stunned, Bulma watched him without believing what she had just heard. She opened her mouth unsure of what to say, as it had rarely happened. But she didn’t say anything. The air turned and I waited, and Vegeta, cornered by his own apology and Bulma's incredulous face, continued with his face flushed.

“It wouldn’t have happened if you knew how to comb your own damn hair.”

“Are you kidding?!”

Half a smile hurried over Vegeta's face. Slightly comforted by seeing again Bulma’s angry face that he who knew how to wake up easily and had been off when he cut her hair.

“What an apology so... so!”

It was difficult to explain how Bulma's explosive attitude could bring such comfort to the Count that he continued to eat while sketching a relaxed sideways smile. He heard an insult, although he said nothing and continued to eat normally. Relaxed and having already overcome that strange moment of guilt to which he had been subjected.

"Excuse me, Sir," an employee interrupted.

Bulma was silent, slightly embarrassed by her behavior. Vegeta motioned for her to come closer and she obeyed. “Mr. Tarble has just left your suit for the dance and a dress for your companion.”

"Thank you, you can retire." He cleared his throat and looked at Bulma out of the corner of his eye. Unsure of what she might think about what he had to tell her. “You have a dress to measure, woman.”


	13. Chapter 13

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** IN YOUR HANDS **

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**Chapter**

> -XIII-
> 
> * * *
> 
>  

At first, it was exactly what she was thinking. It was, sadly and plainly, the endless task of causing her humiliation. What more humbling than to take her to a gala party, one of the most important of the year, being his employee? At least that was what it had been at the beginning, when she had been with him for a few days and the feeling of rejection she had caused him the last time they saw each other was still very fresh. Tarble had come, as always, to harass him with those pompous social events he could barely stand. What better than to give him the pleasure of attending to fulfill his own agenda? It had seemed perfect at that moment. He could wallow in Bulma's future face when he forced her to put on the same dress she had pawned, the sumptuous pink gown with gold trim that she had had to sell to cover her father's last debts.

Now it sounded particularly cruel, considering that he had just ruined the hair that had surely taken several years to grow. However, he hadn’t given up on his idea of taking her. The invitation had already been accepted and he wasn’t going to attend alone after confirming that he would bring a companion. It would be humiliating for himself.

Although Vegeta wasn’t the most correct of the gentlemen, nor he cared about the opinions of his peers. He valued his pride with supreme impetuosity. And he himself would be withered not only if he attended alone, not attending at all would bring him more problems with Tarble than he could bear without hitting him. At least that's how he would get rid of him for a while.

“You're crazy if you think I'm going to that dance.”

“And you are dreaming if you think you are not.”

“You can’t make me.”

"I can fire you," he said, raising an eyebrow in an amused gesture. “Don’t insist, you are in my hands. You're not going to get rid of this, besides... What's the problem? Are you afraid of being seen entering with me?” He smiled before drinking wine.

“Fear? I? Now you are kidding.”

“I thought your reputation would drop to the ground if someone saw you with me.”

“That wouldn’t be a lie.”

“Only if you had a reputation to take care of.”

“Ey! Sooner or later I will be as, or ever wealthier than before. Remember that.”

“So you're going to go and kiss the shoes of all those good for nothing?”

“Of course not!”

“Relax... it's a masquerade. Nobody is going to recognize you; you’ll wear a mask. And with that new haircut no one could believe that I'll be accompanied by the presumptuous, egotistical and narcissistic Bulma Briefs.”

“Of course not, less if I'm accompanied by the proud, unbearable and petulant Count Vegeta.”

 “Then everything is settled.”

“What is your problem?!”

“In this moment, your screams. Believe me, I have less desire than you to go to that stupid masquerade. We will go, we’ll make an appearance and I will have fulfilled my social obligations. That’s all. You don’t even have to interact with anyone, just stay around there. I don’t give a damn.”

“Okay! I'm going to that stupid dance, but not because you're forcing me to go. I'm going because I want to go. I want to see all those idiots who called themselves my friends and turned their backs on me when I needed them the most.”

“You had to become poor to realize that they weren't your friends?”

“I'm sorry, I was too busy being sociable. Not all of us can afford to lock ourselves in our mansions and behave like hermits.”

Incredibly comfortable amid Bulma's insults, Vegeta continued to have dinner as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t stripped her of the last thing that the power she used to hold represented for her. As if they hadn’t rushed one over the other between expletives, blaming each other on the last problems they had been involved in. As if Vegeta hadn’t tried to kiss her to end up with his face suspended in the air while she picked up the books he had just thrown away.

Maybe he was so incredibly relaxed because of the naturalness Bulma showed now, despite her eyes were still swollen from crying. It was hard for him to understand that it comforted him to know that he had not broken her, although he had been trying from the moment she entered his mansion. If she had endured that, there was nothing that could bring Bulma Briefs down. He was pleasantly surprised to discover how unyielding she had actually turned out to be. And, although he hated to admit it, that particular haircut and spontaneity with which she talked with him, made her look strangely attractive.

At times he didn’t even listen to her, not really. Although he saw her chatter incessantly and knew she was telling him something about some noble imbecile, he didn’t really pay attention to what she said. But rather he watched her. He was intrigued by the way she expressed herself, her exaggerated ways of moving. How she frowned when she got angry or how she smiled with perversion imagining the way she would present herself at that dance. He hadn’t lied to her when he told her she was different. She was. She was different from all the women he had met until then. And in that moment he discovered that he liked it.

He felt a particular resentment for himself and his epiphany. That it wasn’t so much of an epiphany, because it was simply the expression of a feeling he had been hiding from his deepest musings. It was merely the result of unraveling his sneaky thoughts and actions for no apparent reason. It was the obvious answer behind his daring dreams and the way he had tried to kiss her more than once. But three damn times!

“And?” Bulma asked and Vegeta came out of his own thoughts. She was surprised, she looked into his eyes exasperated and continued. “Are you still listening to me?”

“Stop listening to you twenty minutes ago.”

“You fool.”

He half smiled. Vegeta didn’t have to do more than that gesture for Bulma to put aside all her exasperation and continue. It irritated her how good that smile looked on him.

“Where is my dress? I want to try it on.”

A choked laugh escaped Vegeta. For a moment he had forgotten that he had put Tarble in the trouble of looking for that terrible dress. So pompous that, personally, seemed cloying. Like a presumptuous French wedding cake.

“It must be in my office.”

Something dark ran through Vegeta's gaze and Bulma felt a chill go through her arms. When they both finished dinner they got up in the direction of the Count's office. With special expectation, he walked behind her, clearly observing the curve of Bulma's bare shoulders. Realizing the almost suggestive and daring way it had. His sinister eyes wandered from one end of her petite back to the other and down the path that hid beneath her dress. He sniffed her narrow waist freely and swallowed as he reached her light skirt. He forced himself to look up, demure like a gentleman and continued walking until he saw her stop in front of his office. She turned to give him a look before opening the door.

The prospect of that dance seemed unsettling and a little exciting. She wondered for a moment how would it be, the dress that Vegeta had chosen for her and how she would look using it. If she would like it, if it was a garment in which she would like to see herself dressed.She blushed, though she turned so that he didn’t notice. She had felt in that moment in which she was imprisoned in his arms, that he looked at her with a familiar feeling. He ran thought her lips along with his pupil and she had done the same. She knew it, for sure. He wanted to kiss her. Terrified, she found the most convenient excuse for not doing it. Because, even though she wanted to, she knew it would bring her more unnecessary problems and she was trying to be more focused. Within her possibilities, of course.

In addition, the seer's words had deeply penetrated her skin. Don’t be impulsive, she said. What could be more impulsive than kissing her own boss? That is why she fled to her thoughts and ended up being the victim of Vegeta's frustration.

Once again, when the two were at the door, she felt strangely close to him. Although that feeling vanished in an instant when opening the door.

“You got to be kidding me.”

Vegeta leaned over her ear, so close to her shoulder that she could feel his breath permeate her bare skin.

“I think it's your size.”

Bulma watched with distaste the dress that awaited her, hanging next to the desk. The same pink dress with golden stitching that she had pawned to cover some debts. Vegeta was a wretch.

“Over my dead body.”

"I don’t think it’ll fit in the coffin," he laughed, holding up part of the immense skirt.

“It's not a joke!”

“I think it's quite funny.”

“You're insufferable!” she shouted before leaving the office.

Vegeta leaned on the desk and looked at the dress. He examined the exaggerated bows at the foot of the skirt, the loops, the huge padding underneath and the saddle was still missing to make it look bigger than it already was. Then he looked at his three-piece suit, grateful that he didn’t have to disguise himself that way for the masquerade. Next to his suit he found a box, and on it an envelope that he quickly took and pull out a note from inside.

> _One for you and one for your "mysterious" companion_
> 
> _Tarble._

Then he opened the delicate wooden box and found inside it two masks, a fairly simple blacK and another, more ostentatious white one. When he was about to throw the note in the trash he found another, in the center of his desk.

  
_I’ going go to a festival, I didn’t want to wake you up. Rest well._

_Bulma._

Suddenly he wondered how long she would have been outside. She had said a few hours, however, the uncomfortable memory of her hanging on the arm of the stable boy presented in his mind. Insistent, annoying and repulsive. He threw both notes in the trash and, although he tried not to think about it too much, he wondered how much the two of them had shared in the festival.

Suddenly a dark thought disturbed him. Mixed with the vivid memory of his failed attempt to kiss her. She had avoided kissing him on porpoise? He looked out the window, the stables were dark. But he knew he was there. Vegeta had never kissed a woman who didn’t want to kiss him back, and he had learned to detect that moment of pure, silent, unspoken desire. He was completely sure that he had sensed it, had found that glimmer of desire in her gaze almost inviting him to take a step forward. Maybe she didn’t want to kiss him at all, could he have been wrong?Bulma inspected every corner of her room, under the mattress and between the pockets of her dresses. In search of every penny that might have fallen. No way was she going to attend wearing a pawned dress, the one she herself had pledged! Much less after having used it in the last dance she attended. Suddenly a revelation hit her, the reason for that dress. It was the one she had used during the dance in which she had rejected Vegeta... Of course. He was the most machiavellian mind she had known in her life. He was in every detail at the time of torturing her.When she finally put together a decent amount of money she went to sleep, with the sole intention of leaving as early as possible to buy another dress. Whatever it was, wherever it where.

The next morning, she prepared to leave but not before going to Vegeta's room to inform him that she was going out. Fortunately, he was awake and about to leave. He looked at her strangely and hesitated a moment. Bulma's mind escaped from all the macabre ideas the Count had engineered. However, after listening to her complain he gave her permission to go out and do whatever she had to do.Vegeta went to the bank to comply with some routine procedures, make deposits, corroborate the funds of some accounts. Although the task was somewhat complicated for how scattered he was, knowing that Bulma was alone roaming the city. He was tempted to send someone to follow her, but a second thought cornered him. He was worrying too much about a woman who meant nothing to him.

She knew well that with the little cash she had, she couldn’t afford the gloves of the dresses women usually wore at those events. So, she ran to the only store she knew she could find something she could afford."Mr. Tao..." she greeted him as she entered the store.

The man turned to her with his wrinkled face, expressionless except the one he already had. His iron face was no impediment for Bulma to approach him smiling, leaning against the counter.

“How can I help you today?” he asked as he checked a few bills in his cash register.

“I'm looking for a dress... I need something great.”

“What’s the occasion?”

“A masquerade.”

“Uhm... Well, I have nothing at this moment that can serve you. But I can make it if you want.”

“Oh… But I have a problem... I don’t have much money.”

“I'm sure there’s something we can do.”

“I have another problem…”

“Which one?”

“It’s tomorrow.”

“Oh...”

Mr. Tao went silent for a moment, deliberating an idea. He meditated later, seeing Bulma’s worried face and decided to share with her what he was thinking.

"There's a dress, I can leave it to you at a good price... Some time ago a gentleman came to the store with his…" he cleared his throat, "lover... He ordered several dresses for her, but there is one that he never came to pick up. Maybe they had to end their relationship, it's hard to say. I still have it in the workshop, but I warn you, it's not the kind of dress that a lady usually brings to such events.”

Fortunately, Bulma was safe and healthy by the time Vegeta returned to the mansion. And, during the rest of the day he was too busy to pay attention to her. They barely shared a few minutes for dinner and she, after finishing her dinner, ran to her room to continue with who knows what.The day of the masquerade rushed over them quickly. Although the Count felt reluctant to attend the ceremony, he made the necessary arrangements to arrive on time. Fortunately, he didn’t have to spend the whole day preparing himself, as it would apparently take Bulma. The pink dress continued in the office in the morning, and after bathing and dressing properly, went down to corroborate that it was still there.He would have been willing to buy her a new dress, she just had to ask him. However, after fervently refusing to wear it, she didn’t mention the subject again. He was afraid she would cause a scene at the last minute, claiming she had nothing to wear. If so, he was willing to put that awful pink dress on her if he needed to.He began to feel anxious when the hour approached dangerously and Bulma did not come down from her room. He stood by the front door with the box of masks in his hand. Suddenly he saw two of his employees running to the first floor, laughing more than usual. He stretched to see the path they took when they climbed the stairs and watched them enter Bulma's room. Intrigued, he approached the foot of the stairs in the hope of hearing something, but couldn’t clearly distinguish the febrile voices of the women. He could only recognize that there were more than three, probably five.

He turned when he heard someone knocking on the door and approached to open it.

“You ran out of employees?” asked his brother with a jocular air."So it seems," he said, closing the door behind Tarble.

“The car is ready; it is waiting for us.”

"My date is not ready yet," he said wearily, taking a look at the first floor.

"Then we'll arrive elegantly late."

“Do I have an option?”

“Surely all the gentlemen who attend will be going through the same thing. I just hope you were kind enough to buy her another dress and that the one you made me buy was a practical joke.”

He ignored his younger brother's question and leaned against the wall while he waited. Unable to imagine what Bulma would wear to accompany him to the dance. He feared she had something ridiculous in mind with the sole purpose of ruining the night, but when he heard the door open on the first floor he looked up expectantly. Five of his employees came out of her bedroom and, judging by their broad smiles, were ecstatic at what they saw. Bulma emerged from the doorframe and stood in front of the stairs. Her pale skin was pearly in contrast to the navy-blue silk of her dress. He tried to observe in detail her finery, however, it was difficult to lose sight of her satisfied smile. When she reached the last stair, she greeted Tarble, who tried to recover his composure and greeted her cordially.

“Are we ready?” she asked.

“The driver is waiting for us," Tarble replied, noticing that his brother had been completely silent.

Bulma triumphantly left the mansion and walked straight to the car. Tarble took the opportunity to deliver a small box discreetly to his brother. He looked at him surprised but the young man soon explained.

"I assumed this could be useful," he whispered. "Go on, I'll get there in a moment," announced before leaving.

Vegeta raised an eyebrow at the sight of him retreating. He put the masks under his arm to take a look at the new box he held in his hands, while Bulma climbed into the carriage with the help of the coachman. To his surprise he found a set of fine earrings and a matching necklace. Actually, Tarble was more meticulous than himself. He closed the box and observed his companion through the small window of the carriage and realized that he was more uncomfortable than anticipated.When he went up, he took a closer look. Her hair was pulled back in small curls, with two delicate blue locks on the sides of her face. She was lightly made up, not enough to look older but to emphasize her natural attributes. Her lashes were dark and long, which highlighted her pearly gaze. The lips with a slight peach color, as if someone had just kissed her.

What took him by surprise was the dress, navy blue with black embroidery. It was extremely daring for a woman of her age and single to dress such dark colors. However, he had nothing to object to. She looked breathtaking.

The sleeves left her visible from the neck through her clavicle, to the curve of her shoulders. The neckline was adorned with a cluster of delicately stitched black roses that ran from her breasts to her navel.

“And? Are going to say anything?”

Vegeta smiled.

“Are we going to a funeral?” he mocked.

Her beautiful face frowned. Offended, she gave him a look of contempt.

"I'm not going to let anything you say ruin my night. Now give me my mask, I don’t want anyone to realize that it's me.”

Vegeta spread the largest box before her and Bulma gasped at the beautiful mask.

"It's beautiful," she said, taking hers in her hands.

She took from the ends the delicate ribbons of white silk and tied them over her hair with extreme caution not to ruin the work of the maids.

The carriage began to move towards the dance, when Vegeta realized how naked Bulma's neck was. The opportune present of his brother waited to be exhibited, however, Vegeta didn’t feel exaggerated care in giving it to her. Uncomfortable, he pressed the box under his hand.

“Is that for me?” she asked.

The count watched her absently, but a few seconds later he smirked and continued.

“What does it matter? If you are going to go with me, you must be presentable.”

“As if you had ever gone with someone.”“I'm selective over my companies.”

He gave her a small smile on one side. For a moment she was mesmerized by his white teeth, but the spell broke quickly as she saw the white pearls of jewelry that Vegeta showed her.

“Are they really for me?”

“Apparently.”

With particular delicacy she took the earrings and put them on. She didn’t even remember the last time she had put on such elegant ones.

“Can you help me?” she asked once she had both earrings on.

He felt that peculiar warmth inside him again when he was very close to her. He took the necklace of white stones and removed it from the velvet box. He shifted in his seat, standing on the same side as her and watched her warily as she turned her back on him. He carefully took the ends of the necklace and surrounded her with it. Bulma lowered her chin and contemplated the delicate jewel falling gently on her chest. Vegeta smelled her perfume, sweet and floral, while he looked through the fine hair that was born slightly curled at the nape of her neck. Once clasped, she turned to show her gift, but Vegeta couldn’t help but delight his pupil with the dangerous curve of her bust.

“Enjoying the view?”

“It's surprising that’s the only thing that puberty gave you.”

“Yeah, sure… Admit it, you were used to seeing me dressed as a maid and now you cannot control yourself. Okay, I understand. I'm dazzling...” she paused for a moment, contemplating Vegeta's amused face. Suddenly, Bulma's lips curled into a different smile and he was surprised to find that gesture. “Thanks, Vegeta. Its beautiful.”

Wrapped in that strange sensation, he contemplated her getting rid of her persistent mocking intention.

"You're welcome," he said.

Although he later thought that gratitude was more towards Tarble than to himself. However, he didn’t feel like sharing that information with her, not at that moment.

When they arrived at the sumptuous entrance of the mansion where the start of the season dance would take place, Bulma realized that it was the mansion of Duke Douglas Hamilton. She recognized it immediately, although she had been there only once in her childhood. It was probably the most ostentatious mansion she had ever met, even more than her own. The front garden stretched for at least a half mile of vibrant green. In the middle of the gardens there were endless bushes cut in unimaginable shapes and overly large and presumed fountains. Although the view of the gardens was entertaining, the stretch to the lavish entrance of the mansion was interminable to both.

Upon arrival, the coachman quickly descended. There were several carriages next to his and many, dozens of young ladies wrapped in their finery ready to present themselves into society. The Count came down first and waited by the door to take Bulma's hand. And, although he had plotted everything several weeks in advance, he felt different than he had expected. He raised his gloved hand, waiting for hers. Bulma held up her skirt and without hesitation took his hand.

"You forget this," she said as she came down and handed him the black mask he had left on the seat.

“I suppose it's part of this nonsense.”

“Let me help you.”

Embarrassed by that persistent and indescribable sensation, he turned around and muttered an agreement, almost reluctantly. She smiled, and he heard her laugh as she tied the mask around him. While he felt stupid to have to wear that mask, he knew that he couldn’t stay away from what was expected of him.He offered his arm to escort her. Bulma was surprised for a moment, but she knew that if she waisted a moment to think about what they were doing, Vegeta would probably let her walk alone. She grabbed his arm quickly and with an involuntary smile let herself be guided by him.

Feeling familiar with the environment around her, Bulma watched the shocked young ladies crowding the entrance. Excited, probably by the prospective husband they were all looking for.

“Does it bring you memories?” Vegeta said in her ear.

“One or two.”

They climbed the immense staircase of the entrance and crossed the threshold of a gigantic door to enter the hall. Bulma recognized at least thirty nobles with whom she had interacted in the past, friends of her father, former suitors and people she knew simply by association. After crossing the first group in the opulent hall, they entered the immense ballroom where the dance was held.

Neither of them had attended an event of that magnitude until then. Between the giant chandeliers and the crown moldings would probably exceed the entire capital of the Count. Bulma looked around the room and recognized several of her old friends, gathered in a strategic space that would allow them to have a view of everyone present. Probably to criticize them. She didn’t take long to notice the way they observed her. They noticed her dark dress, like several of those present. All the ladies seemed to have spent their entire dowries on their dresses, as if competing to know who had the most bulky skirt or the most prominent neckline. In their endless contest to find a perfect husband.

Their eyes wandered from her to Vegeta, and from Vegeta to her. Then stop to murmur. It didn’t surprise her, and she had even been mentally preparing to endure it. Their only advantage was that they probably wouldn’t know it was her. Then she noticed, surprised, that Milk wasn’t reunited with them. But rather behind, almost at the back of the room completely alone and with crossed arms. With a rather apathetic gesture. She watched her reject a gentleman who invited her to dance, but at the same time, she knew that she could be quite grumpy.

“Wow! Finally, someone is attending a dance with Count Ouji, this is new. She must be a very special lady.”

Before she could notice it, a hand held hers with the intention of kissing her. Shocked, she looked him in the eyes. She knew him, had seen him in dances before and had even danced with him once. She was afraid he would recognize her, but when she saw the gentleman's warm face, she realized that her mask perfectly met the objective.

“You are correct. I am a very special lady.”

Vegeta quickly noticed how she clung to his arm. He perceived that beneath that facade of sufficiency, she was restless. Possibly afraid of being asked for her name. He hastened to shake the man's hand after greeting her and tried to remove her from the focus of the situation.

“I found out you're getting married; will you celebrate the wedding in the spring?”

He smiled widely and turned to Vegeta, delighted that his engagement had reached the count's ears.

“On march the 24, to be more exact. Wait for your invitation, of course. And that of your beautiful companion.”

“Thanks, now... if you'll excuse me. I have a couple of people to greet.”

Once they were far enough away, Bulma whispered to Vegeta.

“People to greet?”

"Rather, allow me to excuse myself from this uninteresting conversation.”

He watched sideways as she covered her lips to laugh at his comment. Now more comfortable with the familiarity of their bodies, they wandered around the room together watching the couples dance.

“But look who is there, if it’s the infamous Count Ouji Vegita.”

Turning, the Count's calm gesture blurred. He had recognized the tone of his voice, however, hoped to have confused him with someone else. Sadly, when he turned around he found Baron Black, who approached with a look of joy raising a glass towards them. Bulma let go of Vegeta's arm immediately.

"I'm going for a drink," she said before leaving.

He looked with some suspicion on her steps, although he agreed that it would be best if she withdrew before Black recognized her.

“I didn’t know you would come. I thought you were not the type of these events.”

“Is there something I can help you with? Because I will not, so you can go now.”

“Don't worry, I only approached because...” he turned up raising his chin looking through the people to the young woman who had left, “I see that you came with a date. Who is the unfortunate one?”

“Why do you want to know? Did you come here with the intention of harassing her? That's your style, isn’t it?”

"Not at all, but that would mean you finally decided to tie the knot with some girl. How’s Bulma? Maybe it would be a good time to invite her to dinner.”

“I am surprised how difficult it is for you to understand what _no_ means.”

“In that you are absolutely right, Vegeta. I never receive a _no_ for an answer. At least in matters that really interest me. As in this case, Miss Briefs... Sorry for disturbing you, enjoy the evening.”

While Black was talking to Vegeta, Bulma had made it to the other side of the room. She turned to see that he was far enough away and even that the Baron had said goodbye to the Count. She also noticed the way he was observing her in the distance and thought he recognized her as he smiled. Quickly she took a glass of champagne from a tray and took a sip. For a moment she felt unprotected, but then she quenched that feeling emboldened by the mask she wore. Nobody could make fun of her if they didn’t know who she was, she just had to stay away from Black so he wouldn’t find out.

“Can I invite you to dance?” she heard suddenly, pulling her out of her reverie.

The light-eyed boy who had approached her was extremely familiar. She strained his eyes trying to remember him. After a few seconds the memory of him asking his father permission to go for a ride in a carriage came to mind. She had accepted, they were escorted by a chaperone and he had seemed the dumbest men on earth.

"No, thank you," she said, declining his offer.

He raised an eyebrow, looking suddenly apathetic. Apparently he felt insulted.

“As if you were the greatest thing in here...” he murmured before turning his back on her.

“Excuse?” Bulma shouted.

The gentlemen turned around and, with a superb expression, addressed her.

“I told you not to think so high of yourself. I was going to invite you to dance because I felt sorry that you were here alone, so pathetic. But now I see that you are alone because you are a cocky bitch.”

Shocked by the miserable form in which he had spoken to her, she wondered if it was really the same attentive gentleman who had invited her out, when she was the famous daughter of Duke Briefs. Tempted to start a scandal, she frowned hard between her brows and pressed her fist on the glass cup she held. Although she gave up, as she feared they might discover her and end up having the worst embarrassment of her life.

She scanned the room looking for the count and her heart squeezed when he found him in the company of another woman. Vegeta felt a delicate hand caress his arm and turned away candidly hoping to find Bulma, who was returning to his side. Instead he found a well-known blonde with dark eyes. His appearance became iron when he saw his former lover. She wore a red mask, though she pulled it back when she clung to him. He examined the lascivious way in which she held him weary, then turned his gaze to the ballroom and took a drink from the glass they had just offered him.

“What do you want?” He questioned without looking at her.

“That's no way to say hello to a good friend like me, after all this time...”

“I think _friends_ is a very strong word to define our relationship.”

“Oh, please, Vegeta. Why do you always have to be so grumpy?”

While talking to her, his pupil wandered through the hundreds of faces gathered in the ballroom until he finally saw her. Her pearly gaze under the white mask looked at him with special attention and a slight hint of suspicion. When their eyes met, she intentionally made her way to the far end where he could no longer locate her. Uncomfortable, he removed himself from the arm of the woman who was holding him.

"Your husband hasn’t even been dead for a year now.”

“Now you show respect towards my husband?”

“I don’t. I don’t give a damn about your husband, and I don’t give a damn about you either. I don’t know nor care what you are looking for, but I can tell you you won’t find it here.”

She noticed the attentive looks that surrounded her and, embarrassed, she addressed him one last time before leaving.

“After all, you’ll always be the wretch that everyone says you are.”

“And you haven’t seen the worst it.”

The widow retreated, though not without taking with her the critical eye of those who had managed to hear something from their conversation. For some reason the Count failed to decipher why he was disturbed by the way Bulma had looked at him. The evening was going pretty well up until then and he felt really comfortable about it. Although he hated to admit it, it was not among his wishes to start an unnecessary fight with her.

She, on the other hand, felt naive when she looked at them both. As with Diana, Vegeta had had an intimate life with other women and that she knew before she knew him personally. While he had been very calm about it and hadn’t brought women to his mansion since she had arrived, she was aware that taking her to the dance as his partner was nothing more than a punishment. A punishment of those so strange and unprofessional that he liked to impart. Slightly terrified of the illusions that had been depleting her throughout the day, she shot off to a farther site where she couldn’t see him. Maybe if she didn’t put her eyes on them both it couldn’t hurt her so much. But she was wrong. Her withered face was more altered when she heard a conversation full of familiar tones a few steps away.

“I heard something about her.”

“What? Tell us, don’t be mean.”

“Well, it's a rumor that is running… I didn’t see it with my own eyes... but it is of a good source.”

“Say it, leave the intrigues.”

“Okay, they say Bulma is living as a married man's concubine...”

“How disgusting! with how presumed she was to end up as a concubine…”

“Not only that, I also knew that she’s pregnant. And apparently; they're going to send her away with her bastard, maybe to Spain.”

“Surely got pregnant on porpoise.”

“It's a very interesting story. Above all, the critical tone you are using, considering that every Wednesday night, when your father meets with his colleagues, you let in the baker's son through the service door.”

The whole group turned in horror to see Vegeta's cynical face. Especially Bulma. Embarrassed, the young woman took her skirt and ran to the toilets, her face aflame. Of course, her entourage of friends run behind her.

Vegeta smiled at Bulma, sharing a glance. Then he came slowly to her and stopped beside her.

“How did you know that?”

“Everybody knows. One morning I even saw him come out half naked through the window of her room.”

“Thank you... for defending me.”

After noticing that she had left the company of another woman to return to her side, she felt comforted. Suddenly her expectations seemed less stupid and unreal. He was with her after all and had even turned off the embarrassing rumor they had started about her, with another probably worse.

“Surely you were as gossipy as them. Or even worse.”

"Maybe I was worse..." Bulma added.

“Are you still standing here?”

Tarble came behind them. Judging from his lively expression, he hadn’t witnessed the humiliation that a young lady had subjected thanks to his older brother. He quickly took Bulma's wrist and placed her hand on Vegeta's.

“Go dance,” he insisted, pushing them away.

The Count resisted internally to be forced to dance with her. However, he knew that it was typical and that it was within his obligations. Reluctant to flee, he took her hand firmly and took her to the center of the room, simulating absolute tranquility. As if it had been his idea in the first place. Bulma saw in Tarble an expression of satisfaction that made her smile. Apparently Vegeta wasn’t the only one with his own agenda in the masquerade.

Fortunately, the orchestra began a new melody. A soft piano composition began to sound and then several violins and cellos accompanied it. The piece was majestic. Bulma stood in front of Vegeta, in a long row of ladies, held the lap of her dress and began to turn on her place as was the custom. Then, she approached him and he took her firmly by the waist. All neatly imitating the same dance. The meeting of their looks was immediate and magnetic.

"I didn’t know you were friends with Hollyday's widow," she said between her steps.

“Jealous?”

“What high expectations you have of yourself.”

“You almost kill her with that look.”

“I was looking at her ghastly dress. That’s how you like your woman? Come on, Vegeta, even you could get something better.”

“It's a proposal?”

“You would die for it to be one.”

"And yet I'm the one who holds himself in high esteem."

He lifted her delicate snowy hand with his gloved hand to gently rotate her to the other end. His other hand brushed her waist, just below the curve of her chest. Bulma shuddered immediately, but forced herself to keep her composure. She couldn’t let him disarm her that way.

“At least today you are not behaving like a total cretin.”

“I’ll wait until nobody sees us to fulfill those expectations.”

The air was filled with the same turbulent feeling that overwhelmed them when they were alone, only now they were surrounded by hundreds of people. Protected by the anonymity of her mask, Bulma felt free to look into his eyes even with her cheeks flushed. Those she had always tried to hide when he grieved her. With the touch of his hands, the penetrating way as he looked at her, or with simple words that seemed to carry lascivious and suggestive connotations.

"I believe you," she answered and smiled widely.

When the piece was finished, the Count was slow to release the small waist of his partner and the touch of his fingers on her persisted until they were off the dance floor. Bulma, extremely aware of the way his fingers brushed her back, began to feel an intense and inexorable heat that started from the pit of her stomach. The suffocating sensation reached her chest, and when she noticed that the Count's gaze had suddenly been caught in her cleavage, she realized that the skin of her chest was beginning to reveal the embarrassment she felt. Her cheeks began to feel warmer. She stroked her feverish face and tried to simulate the reason for her sudden crimson color.

“I think I need a little air.”

“I can escort you to the back garden...”

Dazzled by the Count's uneasy gaze, she nodded and allowed him to lead her into the garden. Not far from where they were, they found glass doors almost as big as those in the entrance, wide open. Several people were wandering around, but they didn’t seem to pay special attention to them. Bulma felt the cold air touching her skin and relaxed. She took a breath while Vegeta continued at her side, expectant of her condition. Seeing her slowly recover the pale tone that her skin used to have, she relaxed. She walked across the imposing marble balcony and looked out over the wide back garden. Although Bulma had managed to recover her temperance, the picturesque landscape before her captivated her. The sun gave its last rays on the horizon and the delineated figure of the moon began to be show. While she began to wander around, entering more and more on the back gardens, Vegeta approached her, walking very close to her. Relaxed, with both hands inside the pockets of his pants he walked by her side, watching her when she didn’t notice.

“Can we sit down for a moment?” she asked and before she heard an answer took a seat on a granite bench very close to a source of crystal-clear water. Vegeta surprisingly sat next to her and remained with his inert gaze, observing the way in which the moon became more intense when the sun was hidden. A few minutes later the sky began to be dyed of darkness and small stars were revealed stealthily.

“Today you have behaved very differently than I expected.”

“What did you expect?”

“I don’t know…”

“You are not what I expected either.”

"I'm not the same dumb girl that I was when you first met me," she said with an air of pride.

Vegeta looked at her sideways and half smiled. His white skin was bathed in the light of the moon that had just emerged, and her blue eyes shone when he turned to see him. She had a different appearance, he had noticed it since she came down from her room. And he even felt differently, something irremediable that stung his skin.

"Now you go to pagan parties with employees," he scoffed.

“It was fun.”

He crossed his arms, not wanting to argue with her or any more need to obfuscate her. He looked at the moon and his smile faded. He still had the uncertainty of that kiss that she had avoided a few days ago.

"Are you going to leave to run away with the stable boy?"

Despite the fact that he had tried to give an ironic tone to his question, the air was filled with a strange nostalgia that bothered Bulma greatly. She watched his profile closely, his brow furrowed, as always, his eyes glazed. She felt a chill run through her after hearing the faint tone of his voice. And, after so many interrupted kisses, of so many feelings crushed by reason and good judgment, she decided to do what her skin had claimed from that moment when their breath mixed in Vegeta's office. She didn’t have the strength to continue postponing it and his question seemed to carry something that needed to be silenced with extreme urgency. Before she could realize it, the softness of Bulma's fingers enveloped his face and dragged him like a sweet invitation. Before he could resist, he felt the moist heat of her mouth appropriating his lips. He opened his eyes and looked at her for a brief moment of pleasant surprise. He saw her face, still beautiful beneath that petulant mask, and let himself be enveloped by her hurried kiss.

He had been needing it for longer than he wanted to believe. He closed his eyes, feeling an imposing intensity born inside him and rushing on his limbs. An unbearable tingling seized his hands and brought them to Bulma's waist. And he wrapped his hands around her as he had been wishing for the whole dance.

He caressed her trying to be delicate, however, he couldn’t control the incipient cravings he felt to drag her against his body. Bulma felt Vegeta's hands take her by the waist and traverse her back slowly, producing intense chills all over her body. She sensed beneath his caresses some restrained force that shook her, had the feeling that he would tear her dress off at that very moment and was using all his willpower to control himself from doing it.

She kissed him with a certain softness of first kiss that he tried to reciprocate. But he had wanted it so much that he couldn’t contain himself and the intensity of his kisses rose quickly. He kissed her possessively, pushing his tongue over her shy mouth. Weak before the feeling of overwhelming heat that subjected her, she moved her fingertips from his jaw to his neck and covered it with special delicacy that made his skin bristle. She traveled from his neck to the back and wrapped her fingers in his intricate dark hair. Inviting him to join with more cravings in the kiss they shared. He let out a low growl as he felt Bulma's thin fingers getting lost in his hair, pulling him toward her. Timid, Bulma’s tongue was inside the Count's mouth and, shaken by the pleasant and warm feeling of his lips, let out a slight moan that Vegeta felt even in the most intimate part of his body.

Enraptured by the suggestive sounds that emerged from her mouth, he pressed his lips hard on Bulma's. He wanted to bite her, while he ran his hands over her body for the first time. The pads of his fingers wandered around her waist and with his thumb he caressed over her ribs. Bulma felt her whole body shudder as he drew the space in which her breasts was born with an irresistible naturalness.

Then, with his other hand, he wrapped her neck, went down to her collarbone slowly and then returned and tangled his fingers in her hair. She felt his big fingers get lost in her short hair and, feeling her whole body suddenly weak, she let her face fall back as he intended. Gently he pulled her hair and watched her delighted to make way for his unpolluted neck. He caressed her soft skin with the tip of his nose, dragging a path that took him to her ear. He ran through her, at first impregnating her with his warm breath, then moistening her with his lips. He kissed her softly, rejoicing in the slight sighs she released when he touched her weakest points. He drew unrecognizable figures with the tip of his tongue to the seductive curve that linked her neck to her shoulders. He looked down for a moment and watched the intense sway of her chest, however, he returned by the path he had drawn and clenched his teeth against the lobe of her ear. He heard her whisper his name and an indescribable fierceness subsided inside him. He linked his forehead to hers, looked her in the eyes and kissed her with obvious need. The warm air of his breath brushed her skin as their hungry mouth parted.

“I think I've had enough of this stupid dance.”

He took her hand and got up from his seat, immediately beginning to walk in his steps to, apparently, return to his mansion. Bulma awoke from the hypnotic trance in which Vegeta was suspended, as she walked quickly behind him, holding his hand. She began to realize his intentions, what would happen between them when they finally arrived at the Count's mansion. She shuddered at the thought, knowing that surely that would be the night she would lose her virginity at his hands.

"Wait," she said hastily. He turned around, stopped his march and watched her urgently. “I need to go to the bathroom.”

“Now?”

“Yes... Wait for me at the entrance. It won’t take long.”

Bulma went back into the ballroom. Her notorious confusion didn’t go unnoticed in Tarble's eyes, who had been looking for them since they left the dancefloor. He watched her hurry through the crowd and walk alongside the band to enter the toilets. Once inside, she leaned against the marble sink and looked at herself in the mirror, still hidden behind her mask. The pair of ladies who were there left shortly after, talking about a gentleman, hoping that he would invite them to a dance. She touched the tip of her lips, which had been dyed a deep crimson and felt vibrant, impregnated with a new tingling. Even hungry for him.

“Calm down, Bulma, quiet... Vegeta is not going to force you to do anything you do not want... Oh, damn it, it's so... persuasive... What should I do?”

Distressed by the idea that rejecting Vegeta could completely end the relationship between them, she gathered courage and tried to imagine herself explaining what was weighing on her. She was a virgin! He should know it, she was a lady and had been raised to the highest standards. But, once again, she remembered the way he continually expressed himself about women. Although he had said she was different, maybe that topic didn’t come into consideration. Perhaps the idea that Bulma could be a virgin had never passed through Vegeta's mind. And, even if Vegeta had that misconception of her and even though she began to really discover how much she wanted him, it still felt terribly rushed. Perhaps having been more spontaneous and natural, she wouldn’t have had the strength to reject him. But, given the circumstances and even missing a long journey together in a carriage to get to his mansion and _do it_ , she began to feel that he involuntarily gathered more and more expectations about what might happen. It wasn’t something she was used to; she hardly knew _how_ to do it. He had had murky romances with more women than he could remember.

She couldn’t hide forever in the bathroom, she had to get out and face him. She had to be sincere, and remembered that one time she lied to him…. Surely going straight with her worries to him would put them both on the same page. Vegeta had to know that she had no experience, and above all, that he would be the first one. Even if that made him reject her.

That last thought stopped her, terrified of what might happen. However, she gathered courage and finally decided to face him. She left there with the certainty that he would be waiting for her at the entrance, next to the coachman. She tried not to draw too much attention while she went to look for him, but suddenly a hand dragged her to the dancefloor without being able to resist. He turned her to join with grace to the rest of the women who danced in the middle of the room and at that moment she could see his face.

"I could recognize those blue eyes anywhere," Black told her as he wrapped his arms around her to dance.

“Don't even think I'm going to dance with you.”

“Oh, but you're doing it.”

Before she could let go of him, one of his hands came down hard on Bulma's wrist and dragged her to her back. She resisted, but quickly discovered that he had her trapped and that any sudden movement that she made would lead her to experience a horrible pain. He continued to dance, pretending to share an intimate connection, when he really had her trapped.

“You are insane. Let me go or I’ll scream.”

“If you scream, I will tell everyone who you are and I think you would take the hardest hit.”

“What do you want!?”

“I just want to talk, you haven’t given me a moment to explain anything to you,” he approached to whisper in her ear, “You are forcing me to do this.”

Outraged, she felt Black's nose and his lips on her cheek. Then he straightened again and, without releasing her, pulled her off the dancefloor. Bulma walked quickly, struggling through her own heels, following in Black's footsteps who was holding her to hide the way he had immobilized her. He walked through the people until he came around a corridor. They passed the kitchen, the dining room and, finally, Black opened the door of a room that remained dark. Slightly illuminated by the moon's light that intruded through the huge windows. Once inside, he released her and Bulma almost collapsed on a piano, sank her hands on the keys and an aberrant sound was heard.

"Forgive me, but you didn’t leave me another option."

He walked over to her and tucked her hair behind her ear.

“I've been trying to have this conversation with you since I found you. You have to give me the opportunity to explain.”

“Explain what? That you led my family to ruin? That even knowing that we were losing everything, you weren't able to help my father when it was your fault what we were living. I don’t want to hear your excuses!”

“Bulma, it was not my fault. That's the way business are, sometimes you lose and sometimes you win. I was sure we would do well. It was all part of my plan. If things hadn’t went south, you and I would be engaged. Don’t you realize that? You're perfect for me.”

“Perfect for you? Why? Because of my father's noble title?”

“Not totally.”

“Then that's it, you want to be Duke. It’s all that matters to you.”

“It is the title that I deserve, I would be the Duke and you my Duchess. But if that were the only thing that mattered to me, I would have looked for any other duchess to fulfill that purpose. You are perfect for me, you have the title, the age, you are beautiful, intelligent. Vegeta has just realized this, I know it since the first time I found you reading in your father's library.”

“The only thing that fails in your plan is that I detest you.”

“It's because you haven’t given me the opportunity to make you feel otherwise.”

With elusive agility, he wrapped her again in his arms, immobilizing her in the same way than before. Bulma tried to pressure him to move away, but her struggles were rendered useless by Black's great height and unparalleled strength. He covered her pale cheek with the palm of his hand and imprisoned her lips in a firm and demanding kiss. Incredulous, Bulma pushed his chest in vain and felt the way he twisted her wrist slightly to keep her still. She moaned in pain even with his lips running over her mouth. The door suddenly closed, distracting Black for a moment that Bulma took to hit him with a fist to his face. Black stepped back and felt a burning on the corner of his lips, where a slight drop of blood began to emanate. He wiped himself with his thumb and in the dim moon light he contemplated his own blood.

Bulma looked closely at Black's confused face. He seemed shocked by the blow. He really didn’t expect her rejection.

“Are you surprised?” she retorted, disturbed by the Baron's lack of reasoning.

“It wasn’t supposed to come out this way...”

"You don’t realize..." she said in a thin voice. “Everything you say doesn’t change anything at all, because what you lack is awareness. You sleep like a baby in spite that my family was living a hell, nor do you feel guilt for your participation. In all this time you had never apologized to me. You are a monster and you don’t even realize it.”

Bulma ran out of the room and through the doorway. Once outside, Black extended his hand to her once more, but stopped when he noticed Tarble's presence on the other side of the aisle.

“Is everything okay?” he said, crossing his arms in a pose similar to what his brother would use.

He withdrew his gesture and resisted dragging her with him once more, while Bulma gave him one last look full of rancor and left to return to the main room.

The fury that Vegeta felt began to manifest in the irremediable tremor of his hands. He closed them tightly, but he could still feel how disturbed he really was inside.

After seeing Bulma retreating to the restrooms, he stayed close to escort her to the carriage. But it wasn’t until he saw her dancing with Black that he began to feel really uneasy. From a distance where _he_ couldn’t see him, he watched them. He watched the way he held her and whispered things in her ear, then carried her down a dark, remote corridor. He kept distance while following them. He had to know what the two of them had in hands, but when he opened the door behind which they had disappeared he found them kissing and he felt his stomach turn at once. He controlled the great anxiety that invaded him and the effulgent desire to interrupt them and break Black's face. But it would be humiliating for him since it would show how hurt he truly was. He closed the door and withdrew, surprised by Tarble's presence behind him. He ignored him, recognizing that the fury that invaded him could be scattered on anyone who approached him. He went through the room and, shortly before being able to leave, he heard her calling him.

“Vegeta!” she shouted, running after him.

He turned around, betrayed. He watched her approach him with a cheerful face. However, for him it was just a facade to hide her true intentions. From some hidden plan that she and Black had been making all this time. After all, she had kissed _him_. Perhaps the Baron and she hadn't endured so long away for each other and were forced to hide like rats to kiss, away from him. He looked into her eyes, when she stood by his side breathlessly and began to speak words that he really wasn’t listening to. Surprised by the sudden repulsion she caused him, he stroked her cheek and saw her blush. Bulma remained petrified with then Count's tender gesture , but the warm sensation that he caused her lasted little when she realized that his sole purpose was to remove her mask.

An expression of general amazement was felt among the closest present. Bulma could hear her name and turned to see the faces of those present who had managed to recognize her. The same group of young ladies who had spoken rumors about her earlier laughed in the distance as did the boy who had been reused for a dance. Milk watched her in amazement. A few more laughs were heard and before she knew Vegeta was gone. She ran after him demanding an explanation, but he ignored her screams. When she finally managed to reach him and put a hand on him, he turned violently and shake it off.

“You are the same as all of them, but never a woman had disgusted me as much as you.”

 


	14. Chapter XIV

* * *

**IN YOUR HANDS**

* * *

 

**Chapter**

-XIV-

* * *

The sensation of his words was so overwhelming that she moved away from him. Her beauty was obscured by the aching gesture of her face. Her chest began to ache intensely, as did her throat, drowned in a harsh sensation. Her eyes began to burn as they moistened in her own tears. Bulma looked at Vegeta, he had a disappointed look that she had never seen before. She had truly realized who he was, Ironically she didn’t have to remove his mask to see it.

“Why are you doing this?” she questioned while her voice broke.

“I would have done it sooner if I had known the kind of woman you were.”

“What are you talking about!?” she bellowed.

Little by little they became aware of the dozens of eyes that watched them with curiosity. Vegeta hurriedly searched his jacket and approached a coachman. He put some coins in the palm of his hand and turned to Bulma one last time.

“Go and take your things out of my house. When I arrive I don’t want to find you there.”

Bulma felt as if he had given her the final thrust and, as if gathering the pieces that Vegeta had left her she hurried over the car to leave. Once the door closed and the car began its path; she hid her wounded face on her hands. Her delicate body felt suddenly weak, while Bulma realize the kind of man who she planned to give her precious virginity to. Perhaps, that bitter taste that he had made her try would serve to put out what she felt for him. That love that she had just discovered.

Once the carriage left the long path in front garden, Vegeta's cloudy gaze was seen threatening by the spectators, who slowly retreated to somewhere further away.

He still felt an overwhelming rage that he had no way of releasing. He wanted to insult her, he wanted to corral her and demand an explanation. But, at the same time he knew there was no explanation worth what they were doing.

While deliberating where he should go to take a little time before Bulma left his mansion, he noticed a familiar figure coming out the front door. His furious face didn’t particularly attract his attention. He was so dazed that just by seeing him he felt a whirlpool inside him that made his hands tremble.

Black wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb and could swear he hadn’t even noticed his presence. He was lost in his own thoughts when he passed right in front of Vegeta.

"But look at who we have here," Vegeta snapped, losing what little self-control he had left.

Black looked at him sideways with a furious expression. So dazed and surprised was at the punch that Bulma gave him that he couldn’t get her out of his thoughts. But seeing the Count there, next to him, he couldn’t contain himself and smiled at him. That single gesture stirred Vegeta's stomach, he was making fun of him, right there, in his face.

He had taken Bulma minutes after he kissed her and had erased the taste of his kisses with hims. Probably he would have touched her after he left and perhaps there would be an endless number of events he didn’t know about. So disgusting was the idea that using all his willpower he took it out of his mind. However, the angry feeling he contained couldn’t be quenched.

“Are you alone?” Black asked and looked around. “Don’t tell me she couldn’t stand you and left.”

Vegeta clenched his jaw, in a poor attempt to control himself. Black walked passively until he was next to him. Casual, with his hands in his pockets, he raised his chin to an employee to call for his carriage, then looked sideways at the Count with that despicable expression that he knew so well. Black felt the strong impact of Vegeta's fist hit him directly on the cheekbone. He almost falls to the ground, surprised by the attack. He walked a couple of steps back and covered his face with his hand. It was the second blow he received that night. He looked up after realizing that Vegeta had hit him and met his face. Invaded by the rejoicing of having finally released a small portion of the raging fury that imprisoned inside him, he smiled. Vegeta smiled sideways with such satisfaction that he couldn’t believe he had waited so long to do it.

On the other side, Black wasn’t smiling. It was strange, it was his most recurrent gesture. He even used his smile as a method to annoy him. However, now Black's mask fell to the ground and with it his appearance of strength and calm. Black exuded through his dark eyes all the hatred that had always been there, hidden. He got up quickly and punched the Count's face. Vegeta crouched down, satisfied, having waited for that blow. He closed his fist and hit the Baron in the abdomen. Black gritted his teeth and didn’t retreat, with his left fist he returned to lash out at him. Vegeta took a few steps back and the air carried by that blow caressed his chin. Quickly, Vegeta punched Black twice in the face.They separated for a moment. Black finally smiled again, but something had changed. He wiped the blood that escaped from the split edge of his lips and turned his murky gaze on his opponent. Ecstatic at the idea of tearing him to pieces."This is going to be fun," he said before trying to hit him in the face again.

Vegeta ducked again, but Black anticipated, kicking him and then hit him harder. Vegeta lost his balance and fell flat on the ground. Black lunged at him, but managed to elude his blows by turning on his back. Before he could raise his defense, he got up and hit him on the back of the head. Black felt his face hit the concrete, and then be strangled by the count's immovable arms. Aware of what would happen in a few seconds, he knelt on his stomach to have more access to him. Vegeta received one after the other Black’s blows in the face, while he retained him under his arms. But it wasn’t enough reason to let him go. Vegeta’s sight began to annoy him and a warm sensation dripped from his forehead. His back hit a wall. He ran out of air. Another punch in the face. Another hit against the wall. Finally, Black threw himself hard on the ground and managed to break free of Vegeta's insistent grip. He rose slightly still with the Count behind him and coughed copiously, touched his now free throat and growled loudly. He turned slightly and observed him barely conscious. He raised his elbow and hit him hard in the face. Vegeta reacted and raised his arms to shield himself from the second and third blow. Then he lifted a leg and kicked his face so hard that Black fell on his chest.

Vegeta sat up slowly on his knees, hardly breathing. He brought his gloved hand to his face and roughly cleaned the blood that stained it. Black turned, still on the ground, facing him. Both breathing like agitated animals. Still invaded by rage, Vegeta launched against him with fast movements, avoiding Black’s punches and  kicks. He hit him hard with a punch in the jaw and when he was recovering; he kicked him in the same place.

Black, exacerbated hit him again in the face and managed to get rid of him for a moment. But Vegeta got up to attack him one more time. In the blink of an eye Black felt Vegeta’s disturbing force on his ribs, and with his knee he managed to hit him in the middle of the abdomen. But, to his disgrace, although his attack was accurate, Vegeta managed to intercept him and after pulling him down he collapsed. Black fell on his back. The Count immediately sat on him and hit him with his fist in the face, over and over again.

Deaf to any other event that happened near him, consumed by that fight, failed to realize all the people who had accumulated around him. Suddenly, two pairs of unknown arms held him tightly. Seeing that they couldn’t keep him still another couple came to help to immobilize Vegeta.

Black took the opportunity to kick him in the face before being held by other gentlemen. A fifth joined, taking Vegeta by his back.

Had he found himself calmer, Vegeta would have listened to Tarble's reproaches, or the group of policemen who had come to arrest them. But he couldn’t take Black's face from his sight, stained with blood and his suit ruined. He watched his journey while shouting things that he himself didn’t understand. He followed him with his eyes until he saw the way he was thrown into a car and closed the doors. Vegeta then felt how his arms were bent over his back and he was being handcuffed. Then he was carelessly cast somewhere he couldn’t see and the doors closed behind him. Vegeta fell to the ground and breathed the stench of urine and sweat that was in there. He tried to stand in that dark place, but he lost his balance when the carriage started moving and he felled with his face to the ground once more.

Meanwhile Bulma, who had just arrived at the mansion, collected her things as quickly as possible. Small tears fell from her face, as she walked from one side to the other. Others ran through her chin, her neck, and clung to the fabric of her dress. After gathering everything in the small bag she had brought, she quickly descended the stairs and before she could realize she had closed the door behind her.

Now she watched the night that fell threateningly on her. Terrified by the mere idea that Vegeta would arrive soon she grabbed her bag and ran down the sidewalk a few blocks. Once she was far away, she slowed down her pace and regained her breath. She felt like crying in the middle of the street, not only was she completely helpless again, but now she had to deal with the suffocating pain that Vegeta's rejection and public embarrassment had caused her. What was she supposed to do? If nobody had helped her out before, they weren’t going to do it now. In the absence of an accurate response, Bulma continued walking aimlessly through the most illuminated stone streets.

She crossed paths with a group of men and feared they notice how scared she was. She heard them laughing, walking in the same direction as her, in the opposite block. Bulma walked in her path, to avoid being seen. Then she watched them from afar, entering a two-story house. When the door opened a woman with very low neckline received them. Bulma could observe hardly a woman dancing and knew immediately in front of what she was. Suddenly, the first two options that appeared to her when she hit ruin were present again. The convent, or the brothel... She remained motionless contemplating her options. And, although she was absolutely certain that she wouldn’t hand over her body for any amount of money, no matter how large it could be, she was really desperate to find a place to spend the night. Driven by the idea that sleeping in the open might be more dangerous than entering a brothel, she crossed the street.

As she approached, she heard the sound of music, the bustle and the drunken laughter. She stopped, looking at the top floor, thinking how to introduce herself. How to pray to clean the floors in exchange for a place to sleep. Restless for a familiar sensation, she turned around and found a pair of exuberant young woman gathered in the corridor in between the buildings. One smiled at her, blonde, with a cigarette hanging from her fingers. The other who accompanied her had just thrown her own to the floor to extinguish it with the sole of her shoe.

“Lost?” she said in a seductive tone.

The way she looked at her disturbed her. A look from someone who knows more, something you haven’t told her yet. Everything about Bulma was striking, the proud shape on which her back stood, her short, messy hair, almost the same color as her eyes.

“I suppose so...” Bulma answered with slight fear.

An icy breeze stirred her hair and settled on her bare arms. She thought for a moment what it would be like to sleep in the open and the idea of dying of cold didn’t seem so outlandish.“Get closer, it isn’t so cold here.”On the other side of the city, dragged by the arms trough a slightly illuminated corridor, they took Vegeta towards his cell. He knew perfectly what he was doing there and that it would be in vain to refuse and fight against the guards. He was badly hurt, however, he didn’t regret what he had done. He would probably do it again if he had the chance.

A stocky guard opened the door of his cell and after removing the handcuffs he had him enter it. They closed the door behind him and he walked to the wall to sit down. He took a breath even with a little difficulty. He felt a throbbing pain in his ribs. He smiled, thinking of all the pain that Black would be suffering at that moment. He closed his eyes trying to catch his breath and heard his laugh, malignant, almost feline. He opened his eyes, incredulous and found him on the other side of the room, in the cell in front of his. Even with a bruised face, he tried to smile at him, making fun of him. There was nothing he could do to get around the space between the two of them, fortunately. He felt that if he were closer; he would even be able to kill him.

Black looked up, Vegeta couldn’t imagine what was going through his mind.

“The only thing that keeps me smiling at this moment is knowing that your luck is worse than mine. At least I know she rejected me because of what happened to her family, but in your case, she rejected you simply because of you. That is more than enough reason for any woman to despise you. If it had been different, she would probably be by my side and you here, rotting in that stinking cell.”

Vegeta remained silent, confused by what he had just heard. He tried to control his expression and not expose his disdain. He clenched his jaw and watched him with a frown. Black coughed and wiped the blood that emanated from his mouth. He spat to the side and then looked back at him. Judging from his expression he seemed about to say something else. For a moment he seemed to be planning something, but he was interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching.

A conversation was heard, although Vegeta couldn’t distinguish who it was at first, or what that talk was about. He didn’t have to wait long to realize who he was. His white hair was unmistakable. Zamas looked at him for a moment, and it was the first time he had felt such resentment from his part. It lasted barely a second, and he managed to leave him slightly uneasy. Then he turned to Black's cell and Vegeta couldn’t appreciate his horrified expression. Zamas saw pain in the bruised face of his partner and quickly insisted to the guard that accompanied him to open Black’s cell. He entered in a hurry and put an arm on his back when Black failed to stand up on his own.

Vegeta smiled. The satisfaction of having left him in that state still persisted. Before retreating down the hall, he stopped.

“What are you doing? We have to see a doctor as soon as possible,” Zamas told him, but Black didn’t seem to hear him.

“This isn’t over, Vegeta.”

Dragged by Zamas’s insistence, Black continued walking by the corridor until Vegeta couldn’t see them anymore. Vegeta refrained from answering. Black's threat felt different, as if it wasn’t directed at him. He thought back to his words, what he said before Zamas appeared. He wondered what else he was about to tell him if he hadn’t been interrupted. Something didn’t make sense. That idea lasted short, listening to other steps approaching quickly. Just looking up, he saw Tarble walking hurriedly to him, stopped in front of the bars of his cell and tried to catch his breath. Vegeta noticed immediately that no guard accompanied him.

“I suppose you didn’t come to get me out of here. Even the imbecile of Zamas pulled Black in the blink of an eye.”

Tarble looked at his brother with a surprised expression. He stood in front of him and, although he was initially surprised, his expression changed to one he didn’t know how to differentiate.

“I came to get you out of here and the first thing you do is insult me?”

“I don’t see anyone opening my cell. That means you failed in your attempt to get me out of here.”

“Vegeta, you're just... Everyone saw you start that fight. You ruined the opening season. The most important people in the State were there, watching you break Black's face! If you hadn’t been arrested, you would have killed him.”

"Yes..." Vegeta answered in a low voice. “I would have killed him, I'm sure I would have. I wanted to do it, it would have felt so good to kill him with my own hands.”

“Are you insane? If someone listens to you, they could lock you up for longer. What's the use of showing my face for you if with a couple of words you're going to ruin everything I've been doing for you?”

“Everything you've been doing? Little useless brat, what makes you think I need you for something?”

Tarble listened carefully to his brother. His posture suddenly relaxed, his disappointment became evident in his gaze. From the moment they had taken Vegeta to the police station, he went for the money to bail him out, but discovered shortly afterwards that the mayor himself had requested that Vegeta wouldn’t be released so soon. Apparently, he had incurred several successful businesses with the baron and as a favor to Zamas interceded to impair the Count. Tarble still had a couple more contacts with whom to talk to let him go free, but upon hearing his harsh words, he began to reconsider his efforts.

“All my life you have treated me as if I were a nuisance for you. Everything I have done has always been to protect our family, although you have often made it clear to me that you don’t even believe that we are brothers. I could go now, talk to all the people I know to free you, but I think I'll go and let them do whatever they want with you. After all, you won being here, not only because of what you did to Black, but because of all the things you've done before, everything you've done to me and also because of what you did to that poor girl. I don’t know what’s your problem with her, or why you've been torturing her with that job, but what you did tonight is unforgivable. I thought that coming to tell you what I saw when you left the dance would help you or it would torture you, but I don’t really care which one it is. She rejected Black, I heard her hit him. Then he tried to force her again, but I was there and that's why he didn’t dare to do it. So, if that was the reason for you to humiliate her, you should know you were wrong.”

Tarble’s face was inflexible, as was the tone of his words. Vegeta remained static, sitting on his dirty cell’s floor.

“I'll leave you here, I'll see if I find that girl before something bad happens to her because of you. Although maybe that would be your greatest punishment, because I know you care, even if you deny it, and I know that's the reason why you almost killed Black tonight. Rest well Vegeta, if you can.”

Tarble left without turning to see his brother. He listened to his steps and felt within himself how the erratic energy that invaded him began to leave his body, leaving only the throbbing pain of the blows he had received. Vegeta's pride continued to hide him unfathomable. However, a stinging burned his chest. Tarble's words began to make sense to what Black had said. The confused face he had when he came down the stairs had a reason and that was Bulma's rejection. His own insecurity had returned to play against him and this time in the worst way. He remembered the way he had demanded her to leave and wondered how much time had passed, if Tarble would catch up with her before she left. After all, where would she go? She had no one, he had been her last option. Bulma was smart, she would manage not to sleep on the streets, but now that he had despised and humiliated her... maybe he had left Black as the only viable option... Without realizing it, maybe he had even helped him not to look so despicable in comparison with himself.

But Black had no way of knowing it, he hadn’t been present when he threw her out. She had only just left a few minutes ago, and if Black was finding out at that moment what really happened, he would probably be after her. Surely Zamas would try to stop him. He seemed deeply concerned about his condition. He could barely walk alone. But if he was still locked in there, he did not know what could happen to Bulma."Damn it..." Vegeta murmured and stood up.When he stopped, he felt an intense throbbing pain in his ribs. He arched and brought a hand to his abdomen. He walked to hold on to the bars of his cell, breathed deeply and spoke.“Guard! Guard!” he shouted a couple of times until finally he approached.  
“What do you want?” he asked.

“I need to leave now, it's an emergency.”

“I'm sorry, count. I have explicit orders not to let you out. The judge will see you tomorrow.”

“Moron, you don’t understand. I have something important to do.”

“Moron? Well, I also have something very important to do, I have a sandwich waiting for me at my desk. So, if you'll excuse me for your majesty. I will fulfill my important task.”

“Wait! Where are you going!? I haven’t finished! Guard!”

Bulma was invited to enter the brothel, fearful of what they might expect from her once inside. Nathalie, the girl who smoked in the alley next door, had assured her that she could spend the night if she cleaned while they did their work. She insisted, a little moved by the precarious situation Bulma boasted about. She told her, as they walked through a noisy hallway, about Madame V’s character.

“Madame V?”

“That’s how we call her, I don’t know her real name to be honest. She’s very strict with us, try to make her like you. Otherwise there will be nothing I can do for you, little one.”

Upon entering the room, Nathalie greeted warmly an old client. Bulma was petrified to feel a random hand on her hips and jumped to get away from that sweaty limb. Another girl appeared quickly and sat on his lap. The men forgot her immediately, when the young woman poured him a jug of beer. The lights were strategically placed to give a warm atmosphere to the place, as well as the red burgundy wallpaper and the golden chandeliers.Nathalie walked naturally, her white skin contrasting delicately with her black curls. Underneath, a red dress so low-cut that Bulma began to feel a certain modesty when she realized that her sight was lost in a hiding place formed between both breasts.She led her through the crowd to the other side of the room, opened a door, and after another long corridor they came to a well-lit office. Nathalie knocked the door and after listening to the Madame's voice they entered.

Bulma watched her, noticing the silver-gray halo of hair that was born at the root of her hair. The rest of her mane was a dark chocolate color. Under her gathered hair her stretched face seemed unreal. A thick layer of makeup covered her up to her neck. Her dark eyes under leafy black lashes, red lips and violet eye shadow. Her cheekbones were firmly accented, which gave her an imposing appearance. She examined her at the same time. She carefully lowered the glasses she used to read and looked at her from head to toe.

"Madame, she's Bulma..." Nathalie began, but the lady seemed to ignore her words. She got up from her seat and walked to the girl that was brought before her. Suddenly she took her by the cheeks with one hand and inspected her from side to side.

“We can make good money out of her. She’s young and looks firm.”

“You are wrong!” Bulma said. “I need a job, but not that kind of job... I can clean everything for you, I just need a place to sleep.”

“Do you know how much money you could make in one night? Compared to what I'll give you to clean the floors?” she questioned while watching her slightly surprised.

Bulma's face was firm and sure, despite the slight shivering of her body that she didn’t know whether to assign to her nerves or the cold weather.

“Okay, Nathalie, you’ll share your room with her for tonight. Show her the cleaning room and change her clothes to start working, with that dress my clients will think she is one of my girls.”

Vegeta got tired of screaming for the guard, and ended up sitting again on his cell’s floor against the bars. Evidently no one would listen to him, at least for the rest of the night. He was pretty hurt and escaping from there seemed impossible. So, he would have no choice but to deal with Tarble's words for the rest of the night. Much of what he said was true, he had always resented him since childhood, especially his mother. He remembered the way she looked at him when he was born, with such devotion that he himself had never felt.

_“You look just like your father.”_

Her voice still ran through him, until that day. He was, he was extremely similar to him in appearance, unlike Tarble. And that was one of the reasons that made him think that they weren’t really brothers. He thought his suspicions were confirmed the day in which he arrived early from his training to hear some particular noises leave one of the guest rooms. Vegeta, ten years old, had found his mother wrapped in a hug with another man. That event had left him impacted, and it was then when he began to pay more attention to his mother's activities. The way in which she constantly met with friends for tea, or the many social events she claimed to attend, were no more than a screen for a series of love affairs she had sustained for many years in the face of her husband's indifference.

Vegeta had learned early on not to expect more than infidelity and betrayal from women, from the example of his own mother. Or at least that's how it was until he met Bulma, who had carried the stigma he had formed since he was so young.

She hadn’t betrayed him, and he felt stupid for having let himself fall into Black's trap. If he had trusted her, the night would probably have ended better, but now he was locked in a cell and she in who knows what a damn place. Vegeta hoped that at least Tarble could do something to remedy the situation, solely for Bulma’s welfare.

Vegeta didn’t trust anyone and, although Bulma had several weapons to defend herself, she was still physically more vulnerable than he would want. Only a couple of men were enough in a dimly lit street to take advantage of her. From just entering the wrong neighborhood or crossing paths with the wrong guy...

The unpleasant image that crossed his mind left him extremely uneasy. He had no way of knowing even what time it was, or to communicate with anyone. Had he not mistreated Tarble, he would probably be leaving at that moment to find her, however, he was dealing with the consequences of his behavior. For the first time in his life, his brother had turned his back on him.

Vegeta realized that he had no one to turn to, and maybe, like Bulma, he was completely alone.Bulma had managed, with a little difficulty, to avoid the hungry men who roamed Madame V's mansion. She couldn’t avoid their lascivious glances or the way they stretched to touch her when she lifted the glasses from the table. She tried to control herself when one touched her bottom and, although she was furious, she wasn’t stupid enough to run out of a place to sleep. The night in the brothel was longer than ordinary nights. Just at six o'clock in the morning the last of its clients were leaving and Bulma had to dedicate herself to raising and sweeping up all the disaster that had been left behind them. By the time she finished, she barely brought her tired body to the room she would share with Nathalie and when she opened the door she found her naked.She didn’t flinch, Bulma instead looked away and tried to simulate her blush. She smiled and dressed in a plain nightgown.“We are women, easy. It's normal," she said, getting into her bed.Bulma closed the curtains where the first rays of the sun began to enter.

“How do you stand this every night?” she asked as she began to undress.

“You get used to it, although you never manage to rest well. You only learn to hide the fatigue.”

“And the men? How do you stand them?”

“I stopped seeing them as men a long time ago, I've been in this business longer than I'd want. Now I see them as animals, I know what they want and how they want it. They think they have power over us, but we the one who controls them. Besides, here I’m safe, the girls who really have it hard are the ones on the street.”

Nathalie observed Bulma’s naked figure, saw her dress her nightgown and go to bed to then turn to her and see her in the eyes.

“But you don’t belong here, you weren’t raised for this.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know how we look, how we talk and how we move. You don’t look like us, that's why they're going to try to have you. You are the kind of woman that many of these men will never have.”

“All men are animals; it does not matter if they are high born or not.”

“You are right, but that means you can handle them as the ones you met today. And you have the precise weapons to drive them crazy, don’t forget girl.

In early hours of the morning Vegeta was still awake, he hadn’t been able to rest for a minute thinking about what would have happened to Bulma after the brutal way in which he threw her out. He didn’t know at what time he would have the possibility of having an audience with the judge and it wasn’t until nine in the morning that a guard came to talk to him.

“Your bail is paid, you can go now.”

Surprised by what he had just heard, it took him a few seconds to react. The door opened in front of his nose and he struggled to get out. At the end of the hall they handed him the belongings that they had removed when he entered his cell. At the door of the police station he met Tarble, who shared some last words with a gray-haired man.

“The mayor asked me to postpone his hearing for tomorrow at noon, this favor will cost you dearly.”

 “Don't worry about that, and thank you again, Sir.”

The man saw Vegeta over his shoulder, but avoiding to salute him and withdrew leaving only Tarble. The younger one observed the bruised appearance of his older brother and turned to face him.

“How was your stay? I hope it was horrible.”

"I've had better..."

The uncomfortable atmosphere between them didn’t go unnoticed. Vegeta had felt Tarble's firmness in the last words he had given him, however, he had gone against himself to get him out of that cell. It was almost against his nature to thank him for releasing him, and he could only give half a smile.

“Could you... find her?” he asked after a few uncomfortable seconds.

“I put a couple of men to look for her, but we didn’t find anything. She vanished... But I'm sure we'll find her.”

The count recognized his carriage waiting for them both outside the police station and tried to disguise the pain he felt when walking up to it. Once inside the air remained uncomfortable, but he didn’t do much to improve the situation. He guessed there was not much he could say, but Tarble suddenly interrupted the silence.

“I'm sorry about everything I told you last night, I shouldn't...”

"No," Vegeta said, interrupting him. “I would have done the same in your place, maybe I wouldn’t have come looking for you. I don’t even know why you came back.”

“Because you're my brother, you're the only family I have left.”

“I guess so...” Vegeta said finally.

“You should rest, we'll call someone to see your wounds. I’ll continue looking for Bulma. You can hardly walk.”

Upon reaching the count's mansion, Tarble immediately withdrew to continue the search as he had promised his brother. Vegeta, however, climbed the stairs hoping to find her there sleeping. It wasn’t until he reached the door of her room that he realized how hard it was to open it. One of his employees came up from the ground floor and greeted him.

“Sir, do you want us to prepare something for breakfast?”

"No..." he answered softly, in a very particular tone.

His stomach was churned with nefarious ideas.

“She…?”

“Bulma left last night, my Lord. She took her things and left.”

“Where... did she said where?”

“No, Sir. I’m sorry.”

Little time passed until finally a doctor knocked on the door to check on Vegeta. He seemed to have a broken rib, but the rest of the bruises he had all over his body were nothing to worry about in particular. Vegeta soon changed to go out to find Bulma with Tarble, but by late afternoon they still had no news. He returned to the mansion rather late, imagining where that girl could have ended up. Tarble had told him he would go to the police stations, hoping to rule out the worst options. When night came, the count was about to resume his vigil when someon knocked on the door asking for him.

His heart pounded and a chill ran through his body, he rushed out to the hall waiting for something new, but his disappointment was evident when he saw the face of one of his cousins' husband.

“Is that day of the month?” he asked annoyed when he saw him.

“That’s not the way to receive your family.”

“Come to my office, Nappa. Let's get this over with quickly.”

He had taken care of his family when his father died. And part of those tasks was to maintain the assets and deliver the monthly allowances for some of them. Nappa, as the husband of her cousin, was responsible for her and her finances. Vegeta walked quickly to his office and behind him walked the bald giant. When he arrived; he took a seat with enthusiasm, the same enthusiasm he always showed to receive the assignment of his wife. The count rummaged through the drawers for his checkbook and began to get exasperated when he didn’t find it. Finally, he found it in the last drawer and to his relief he still had a blank check. He had to remember to go to the bank to look for more checkbooks before the rest of his relatives came by his door.

“You look tense, Vegeta. You should get out this mansion for a change. It must be very boring to be here locked up all day.”

"Your concept of fun and mine are very different, Nappa," he answered, taking a seat to start writing.”

“How different can they be? We are both men, and you are young and wealthy. Women should be kissing your boots. Or maybe you are interested in other things...”

“I'm not in the mood to listen to your stupidities.”

“You should relax.”

Nappa took the check and while Vegeta got up to say goodbye, he continued.

“You should go with me to the brothel tonight, yesterday there was a new girl who is going to get this check out of my hands.”

“Nappa, I'm busy. You already have your check, now go.”

“You should have seen her, I had never seen eyes that blue.”

Vegeta was petrified, stopped his march and listened carefully. Nappa didn’t seem to notice the Count's nervousness, confusing it with genuine interest.

“Now you're interested? She was a thin girl, very pretty.”

“What color was her hair?”

“Almost the same as her eyes.”

He felt an impossible blow hit his chest. He took Nappa from his clothes, still sitting with his precious check between hands and continued with a furious gaze.

“Tell me where that brothel is, now.”

Nappa's instructions were precise. Vegeta quickly left, ignoring the pain of his wounds and went to the barn where he found Storm moored and moving in an angry way, as if he had transmitted his own concerns. With haste, he took the reins of the only horse that was still saddled and left, leaving the corral’s door open. He had to find her as quickly as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone reading this :)


	15. Chapter XV

* * *

**IN YOUR HANDS**

* * *

 

**Chapter**

-XV-

* * *

 

She tried to look natural and confident. She inflated her chest and filled it with that grayish smoke. The strange sensation of its toxicity rushed through her and she coughed, letting it out. She covered her mouth and withdrew the cigarette Nathalie had invited her. It was strange at that moment to think that she might like it so much to stop her day smoke cigarette. Nathalie laughed softly, Bulma almost felt the tenderness that she generated on her. She took the cigarette from between her fingers and gave it a whiff.

“Nobody likes it the first time.”

“I don’t understand how you get to the second one.”

“Me neither. The first time a smoked I cough worse than you did. I was twelve and I wanted to look older, more mature. I aspired so much that I felt its taste for hours. I hated it. I said that I would never do it again, it was nasty. Years passed and a boy invited me one, I couldn’t refuse, I was crazy about him. So I smoked, and that time I did better. Although it took me so long to let out the air that almost faint.”

“Why do you smoke now?”

“Well... it's an incredibly convincing excuse to leave the room. Nobody bothers you if you say that you’ll for a smoke. On the other hand, if you are tired or in pain, it is a little harder for them to understand you. Also, it takes away the taste of other things from my mouth, I cannot say that that bothers me.”

She breathed naturally and with an enviable peace, sincerely relaxed. Then she looked at her with complicity and after corroborating that they were alone, she made a slight smile.

“I'm I have the feeling he's going to know what really happened. You said his brother was there, right?”

“Yes, but he doesn’t have very good relation with Tarble.”

“Does anybody has it?”

Bulma smiled. One night of conversation was enough to feel comfortable enough to tell Nathalie about the series of unfortunate events that took her to that brothel. By the next day, she had already formed a pretty clear idea of who that famous Count was.

“And what about the boy? That... stable boy. You didn’t even say goodbye to him.”

“It's true, I was so anxious that I just needed to get out of there. I didn’t want to see him again.”

“Well, yes, he was a jerk.”

“He _is_ a jerk.”

“And you're madly in love with him.”

Bulma gasped, Nathalie made a smiling gesture and pushed her slightly with her shoulder, taking advantage of the fact that they were both reclining on the wall in the alley.

“You can’t deny it, there's no way you could have endured so much without feeling something for him. I bet he must be gallant, tall, broad-backed, chiselled profile...”

“More or less…”

“Why didn’t you sleep with him?”

“We didn’t have that kind of relationship...” she answered although she felt that she was lying. “It would have been the worst mistake of my life. He is insufferable, manipulative, controlling and selfish. He only cares about himself. From the first moment I went to work for him, his only goal was to humiliate me, and he succeeded, he got me to kiss him and then embarrass myself in front of all those imbeciles. The good thing is that if I survived Vegeta, I can survive anything.”

A violent breeze ran through Bulma's bare arms and she wrapped herself to ward off the cold. Nathalie finished her cigarette and threw it on the floor. They knew that this meant the end of their break and returned to the hall. Outside it was already dark and the first customers of the night began to arrive. The music was just beginning and the girls pretended to be extremely animated, like every night. Nathalie smiled at Bulma one last time and took the stage with five other young girls. That night she had to dance.

At the other end of the room Bulma had taken a broom, but the show caught her attention and she watched the uninhibited form in which those ladies raised their skirts in the air. Then she glanced at the man who were watching them, gathered in small round tables for two. It did not escape from her the way his hands hurried over his wallets, mentally selecting who they would share the bed with that night. A chill ran through her as she imagined one of those men, sweaty, panting, drunk on cheap beer; staggering over her body trying to _make love_ to her. Then she realized something she hadn’t considered jet, that night more than one would be on top of Nathalie’s body. For some reason it didn’t seem to bother her, she seemed extremely comfortable with her lifestyle. Or maybe, she was just used to it. Bulma, on the other hand, writhed at the idea. She had been so immersed in what was happening with her own life that she never realized that the possibilities weren’t limited exclusively for her, but to all of them. All the women who were there had been bounded for one reason or another, taking what seemed to be the best of a world dominated by men.She had seen a girl breastfeeding her little boy of a year and a half in the kitchen, while she was having breakfast. Another was responsible for cleaning the pig guts they used to avoid getting pregnant. But they weren’t the kind of women who complained about their circumstances, maybe they didn’t even stop to see the world in which they were submerged because they knew the horror with which they would find themselves. Maybe that's why they took it with extreme naturalness.While she hovered between those thoughts, she felt someone squeeze her butt. Horrified, she turned around. With the body almost paralyzed, invaded by a mixture of feelings, entangled, crouching one over the other.His feverish face was the clear evidence that he had taken too much rum. He bit his lip as he sketched a disgusting grimace of desire.

“How much?” he asked excitedly.

"I'm not for sale," Bulma replied and quickly removed his hand with a violent gesture.

He did not seem to notice how uncomfortable she was, probably because he was so drunk. He looked at the curve of her back and put his hand on her to touch her again.

“All women are for sale.”

Almost as blinded as when she punched Black in the face, Vegeta left his mansion mounted on one of his horses. He didn’t allow himself to feel the pain in his abdomen, or the pain in his back. He ignored it totally in the task of finding that brothel. His horse galloped with wild force through the stone streets of the city, running scandalized ladies aside, whom Vegeta also chose to ignore.

When he notice it was a couple of blocks away, he began to stop hearing and perceive his surroundings. His heart beat hard inside his chest, so strong that for moments he thought it hurt. When he finally reached the front door, he got down from his horse and tied him up. He opened the door, but inside it was so dark that no one seemed to notice his presence. He quickly began to scout with his pupil among all the women, looking for that peculiar hair tone.He wandered around the room, observed the women dancing on the stage and then the women scattered around, serving her clients affectionately.Suddenly, a hand gently caressed his jaw. He was so distracted that he didn’t notice the presence of that woman until she touched him, but her seductive appearance turned to panic when he took her by the wrist and pulled her dangerously close to his body.

“The woman with blue eyes, the new one. Tell me where she is”

“The new one?” The girl gasped and her aching look went to the first floor. “She is in the bedrooms with a client.”

Vegeta released her and went immediately to the stairs with a choking sensation. He began to feel the same tingling in his hands that had felt the previous night. And a hugging fire was born in his insides it invaded his whole body quickly.

“Wait! You can’t go there!” The girl shouted at him, but when Vegeta didn’t hear her, she saw him running to the first floor and ran away to get help. As he climbed the stairs and walked the corridor, the music ceased to dim the moans of pleasure that were heard behind each door. He gritted his teeth and with a tense jaw opened the first one. He found the arched back of a blond-haired woman, riding a robust man, he closed it immediately and continued before they found him.

“There he is!” He listened very close and hurried on the second one.

A man was on top of her, immobilizing her by the wrists. He moaned with difficulty rough sounds while violently doing his intimacy. Celestial locks fell on the side of the bed. Her white wrists reddened by the inclement grip of that man. Vegeta banged the door open and hit the wall. In less than a second he was on top of him, grabbed him by his greasy and sweaty hair and threw him to the ground. After the first blow the man fell unconscious, but that wasn’t enough reason for Vegeta to stop. So blinded was he that he didn’t gape at her disturbed cries. It wasn’t until she pulled him by the arm and demanded he to stop that he turned to see her. Her eyes were blue, and her hair a deep blue. But she wasn’t Bulma.

The count looked perplexed at her. She covered herself scarcely with a ragged linen sheet and Vegeta realized immediately that it had all been a confusion.

“Take him!” He listened near the door frame he had just broken. He looked up and three men approached him with fearsome expressions. If he had being in better conditions, he would have had a better chance. But with Black’s blows still throbbing in his skin it was impossible not to bend and moan in pain after each blow that was scattered. They dragged him to the stairs and dropped him with a kick in the chest. With difficulty, he sat up on his hands and then one of the prostitutes broke a glass over his head.

In an instant they had thrown him into the street, like any drunkard.

He could barely breathe when a man came to him and Vegeta took a weapon from his jacket and pointed it at the largest of them. He fought with himself to keep the weapon high and not to fall to the ground, because surely; they would kill him. The presence of his gun was enough reason for them to be cautious in front of him. Vegeta got up from the ground and turned his back to his horse to ride it and leave.

Bulma wandered the streets again with her bag in her hands at the end of the night. After hitting that nasty drunkard with her broom, she saw in Nathalie's horrified expression what would happen next. They ran to their room before Madame V knew what had happened and left. She could still feel her arms surrounding her tightly, unable to protect her. Then he told her to run before they found her. She still wondered what would have become of her, after helping her escape. However, she didn’t regret it in the slightest that certain blow she had given to that rascal. Now she didn’t regret it as much as the first time. She was a survivor and, as she had said, if she survived Vegeta for so long she would surely survive any man who got in her way. She asked for the address of the nearest convent and, knowing that it was several miles away, decided to ask for asylum in a church in the meantime. Determined to exhaust all viable options before her to survive. As Nathalie had done.

The night represented an open threat to her, but there was no fear in her expression. With her head held high she traced her way to the church, but when she passed by a plaza she found something that made her feel familiar. As if repeating an event that she had already lived and couldn’t remember. She walked cautiously, surprised at what she had found.

“Storm?” She asked the animal that grazed in the middle of the deserted square.

The horse, black as night, raised its imposing neck and turned to see her while chewing. She had seen him several times fighting with Yamcha in the stables, he seemed an indomitable animal. But there, wrapped in a sepulchral silence interrupted gracefully by the grinding of the crickets, he seemed calm.

She walked alert, fearing that he would flutter and throw himself upon her. However, he remained calm and let himself be pet by the gentle touch of her hands.

“What are you doing here?”

Once next to him she noticed his broken reins and assumed that he had escaped. She sighed, that animal was more lost than her. Possibly it was more difficult to rob Storm than to kidnap her, but for some reason it seemed particularly cruel to leave him there to his fate. His indomitable spirit seemed slightly broken.

When she took his reins she could clearly perceive his anxiety and tried to calm him by stroking his black hair and speaking to him in a sweet and relaxing tone. Once he calmed down, she took the reins hard and deliberated what she should do. All of Vegeta's employees must be looking for that steed, especially Yamcha. She feared he would lose his job because of this carelessness, remembering that he had mentioned that the only reason he wasn’t fired was because of Vegeta's grandfather's memory. He had to take him to a safe place before continuing on her own path.

She pulled gently on his reins. Storm wasn’t wearing a saddle and was so tall that it would be impossible for her to ride him without help. And maybe she would end up scaring the animal if she jumped on him when he barely knew her. Maybe he would end up throwing her to the ground, or worse. But he seemed quite comfortable being gently guided by its reins.

Bulma wandered until she found an older couple returning home and they told her where the nearest police station was located. Her feet ached when she learned she had to walk about thirty blocks to get there, but at the same time she had an unshakable certainty about what she had to do.

Her eyes were practically closed from sleep. The night before she had fallen asleep around six in the morning and had woken up early to start her day. All the stress that matted inside seemed to exhaust her even more.

At least the imposing presence of that animal provided her an air of security. And it was amazing how similar it felt to have Vegeta close to her. His powerful dark aura accompanied her for several blocks, strangely peaceful. Until suddenly he began to refuse to walk. Bulma stopped and tried to calm him down again, but he stirred restlessly. Fortunately, the pressure he exerted wasn’t enough to scare Bulma, he simply seemed restless, unable to move forward. A familiar voice called her name and she froze in the middle of the street. She looked over her shoulder and found the reason for Storm's apparent discomfort.

“Yamcha!”

“You found him!” He said enthusiastically.

Bulma quickly knew that Yamcha still didn’t know that she had left the mansion. She smiled uncomfortably without knowing how to explain the series of events that had taken her to the street once more.“You shouldn’t go out alone, it's very dangerous for you. Don’t you know what time it is?”“Yamcha... I...” she hesitated. She met the worried look of the groom and knew she couldn’t hide the truth. Or at least part of it. “Vegeta threw me out, I only found Storm by coincidence.”While the boy was made aware of what happened, he began to be shocked by the idea that Bulma had been wandering alone through the streets with nowhere to go.

“Why did you not tell me? I would never have allowed you to be on the street.”

“It all happened really fast…”

“Let's go home... You'll sleep in my bed, the Count will not notice. I have to return Storm to the stables before he arrives. He left a few hours ago and left the barn open. Storm came out after him shortly after...”

“I don’t plan to return. Not even if I was crazy.”

“And where are you going? You will not sleep in the open.”

“Anything is better than under his roof.”

“Bulma, don’t be stubborn... It will only be for tonight, tomorrow we will see how to solve this. I promise you…”

With his body terribly hurt and the pain throbbing with force, he returned with great difficulty to the mansion. Mounted on the back of his horse, almost lying on him and with a hard sense of defeat on his back.

After the incident on the train, Vegeta had tried to carry a weapon with him at all times and, although it seemed slightly exaggerated at first, he quickly realized how grateful he was to himself that he had done so. When he reached the stable, he got off his horse with poorly concealed difficulty. He tied it up and wiped what he thought was sweat on his face, only to realize that it was almost completely stained with blood. He found a bucket of water on the other side of the barn, and walked calmly to it. He took it and poured it on his hair. Then he wiped his face with his shirt, taking advantage of the fact that it was ruined and when he turned to enter the mansion, he noticed her presence lying on a pile of hay.

Bulma had sat down to wait for Yamcha to return and take her to his room and spend the night there while he slept in the stables. But, arriving at the mansion with the certainty that she wouldn’t spend the night outdoors caused her a sort of relaxing and shortly after Yamcha left, she fell sound asleep.The count looked at her in surprise, wondering if she had been there all that time. The idea relaxed him slightly; to think that she had been safe under her nose gave him some relief. He let out a breath of air. The peace with which she seemed to sleep was like a balm to his wounded body. He approached her cautiously, his last words still echoing in his mind.

_"Never had a woman disgusted me as much as you."_

Undecided, he watched her and the corner of his lip arched in a weak smile when he heard a slight snore coming from her nose. He was not sure what to do, if he woke her up it would probably end in a terrible fight. If he left her there, he wouldn’t know if he could find her in the morning. He thought of the idea of loading her into her room and locking her there until she calmed down and they could hold a conversation. But he was so badly hurt that he doubted he could lift her off the ground. He could feel that broken rib inside him and the blood trickling down the back of his neck. He could even smell the strong smell of iron impregnated in his dark hair.

Although, no matter what was happening he had to make a decision and he had to make it quickly. He approached her and came to lift her. The fatigue of his muscles was stronger and he couldn’t raise her more than a few inches and let her fall gently on the hay. She stirred and barely opened her eyes.

“Yamcha?...” she whispered sleepily.

Vegeta tensed at the sound of his name, though he stifled the jealousy that crouched over him. Bulma looked confused, but after a few seconds she looked him in the eyes and rushed against the wall with the sole intention of getting away from him.

“What are you doing?” she questioned her.

“Let me explain.”

"I don’t want to hear you, I'm leaving," she bellowed, standing up. “The jewels you gave me! You gave them to me, they belong to me now. Also the dress, I'll take them you wanted or not.”

“Wait!” He exclaimed excitedly and took her by the wrist. “You will not leave until you talk to me.”

“No! I already made a decision. I'm going to sell everything I have and I'll go find my sister. I'm leaving, I don’t need you to kick me out again!”

Bulma pulled hard and Vegeta's weak grip ceased to her surprise. Encouraged by her own words, she walked by leaps and bounds to search for the pawned dress and jewelry, but stopped when she heard Vegeta's body fall to the floor.

“Vegeta?” she whispered and when he didn’t answer she approached him and called again, but he didn’t say anything.

The darkness that crackled over the barn was such that she could barely see his body, slightly illuminated by the rays of the moon. She only noticed the pool of blood that formed around him when she tried to lift him and her hands got wet. Bulma inhaled the ferrous stench and turned her white palms to find them dyed burgundy. Her heart cringed, and wrapped in absolute terror she screamed with all her might.“Help! Yamcha! Someone! Help me please!” She took him by the face and continued calling for him. “Wake up, you idiot..." She said and without realizing it she had started to cry.Yamcha arrived immediately, along with two other employees. The first one shouted quickly to the maidservants who were watching through the window that they call a doctor. They immediately picked up Vegeta and Bulma followed them. The count was taken to the sofa in the nearest room and Bulma realized she was bundle of nerves while searching in the kitchen drawers until she found a rag to clean his wounds. She ran back to the living room and crouched down next to him.

“What happened?!” Yamcha said.

“I don’t know, he just fainted. He's hurt..." Bulma answered and felt a terrible shared pain in her voice.

The groom felt a twisted grief in his chest, seeing the almost devout form in which Bulma looked through the Count’s hair the wound from which so much blood came. She found small pieces of glass scattered between his scalp and when she finally found the wound, she kept the cloth she had found pressed against him to stop the bleeding.

“Vegeta… What were you doing?” she whispered.

Tarble knocked on the door and rushed in when a shocked servant greeted him. He had been looking for Bulma with no result, and was returning to the mansion to talk to Vegeta about it. It wasn’t the only surprise to have found Bulma taking care of his brother's wounds, but also his condition.

A growing fear came to him when he saw him and remembered the threats he had made the night before in the police station cell. The idea that he would have fulfilled his words scandalized him, but immediately turned to order one of his employees to go for his family doctor immediately in the car that waited for him on the outskirts. He gathered courage, preparing for the worst of the revelations and approached Bulma who didn’t seem to have noticed his presence.

“Could you explain to me what happened?” he asked calmly.

She raised her troubled face over her shoulder.

“He was like this when I saw him, I don’t know who did this... Do you have any idea who could have been?”

Tarble hesitated. Unsure of sharing with her the events after the dance and fearing that this fight would have ended in tragedy. He chose to simply deny with a gesture and immediately Bulma turned to face the Count.A few minutes later the doctor arrived, who ordered him to be taken to the guest room on the ground floor to check him more carefully. Bulma and Tarble waited behind the door in the hallway. Her ideas of selling everything that was within her reach vanished from her mind and there was only room to wait for a response from the doctor. While Tarble urged him vehemently to get an answer and retired a few minutes to send someone for it.

Bulma’s overwhelmed appearance standing by the door and biting insistently the nail of her thumb called Yamcha's attention terribly. Distressed by the obviousness of her feelings towards the Count, he approached her and took her in his arms. Bulma let herself be hugged and hid her face under her friend's neck.

“He’ll be fine, he is a very strong guy...” he said trying to sketch a smile that she couldn’t see.”

"He's an idiot..." she whispered, her voice hanging by a thread.

Bulma realized how intense her feelings were towards him. Nathalie was right, she was madly in love with Vegeta. And there, waiting impatiently for an answer, she couldn’t deny it. Because ultimately it didn’t matter how much logic she applied or how much he could hurt her, she loved him. She didn’t know when that feeling was born or how. She didn’t know why, after all he had done, she still felt that way.

  
The count's younger brother returned shortly after. He had sent someone to find out if Black was in worse shape than his brother and returned to the hall. Upon arriving, Yamcha separated from Bulma with regret. He stroked her shoulder gently and wiped a tear away. He loved her too.

 A little more than an hour passed, Yamcha asked permission to check that the stable was closed, but not before telling Bulma that the count would kill him if he lost Storm again. Being his only intention to assure her that very soon everything would return to normal.

Bulma and Tarble stood facing each other in the small hallway. After all that had happened she was still surprised at the way she wandered anxiously, waiting for an accurate answer. Intrigued by what had happened between the two of them, he decided to speak to her, but she interrupted him.

“Why is it taking so long?” she asked, but she seemed to be talking to herself. “Is it a good? or is it something bad?” she raised her face and looked at Tarble, waiting for him to respond.

“Easy, I'm sure the doctor will come out at any time and tell us that everything is fine.”

“Of course, when I decided what I want to do, he does this. He is so selfish, he is an imbecile! I hate him! I can’t stand him... You better be fine, you damn idiot!

Tarble smiled and even laughed for a moment. Bulma's angry look was funny. She was angry to be so worried about him. She was furious and scared.

She was perfect for his brother. Maybe it wouldn’t be so farfetched to tell her about his fight with Black, caused by the nefarious kiss that the he gave her by force. But he wasn’t sure, considering that maybe he had killed Black after all. He preferred to keep quiet and restrict that information to him. And while he was deliberating, the bedroom door opened and the doctor came out.

That gentleman well into his fifties turned to Tarble, whom he had known since childhood. Then he turned and smiled at Bulma with a warm gesture, seeing how distressed she was.

“He is conscious. He lost a lot of blood and that's why he lost consciousness. His rib is in serious condition, we should check it periodically. He needs to rest..." He took a flask out of his suitcase and put it into Bulma's hands. “It is laudanum. I just administered to him, he will be sleepy, but he can sleep. Give him two or three drops when he needs them." He smiled. “Knowing him he’ll refuse, but I trust that you will have him taken them. He must rest, it is really important.”

Before Bulma could explain that she had no relationship with Vegeta, Tarble raised his voice.

“Thank you so much for coming so late.”

“It’s nothing young Tarble. Just take care of your brother, it doesn’t look good on a gentleman to get into fights in the street.”

"Yes, of course." He quickly placed a hand on his back. “Allow me to accompany you to the door.”

Bulma looked at the vial they had placed on her hands and then at the door. She wanted to claim him that he had made her worry, even if the worry wasn’t mutual. And that was strange, she knew it. But there was nothing that could explain that feeling that invaded her, that of wanting to make sure with her own eyes that he was okay.

She pushed the door gently and found him leaning back bare-chested. Even in the warm light she could see several bruises spread over his body and one of an intense purple that later became burgundy and then yellow, where she presumed was the most affected rib.

His dark gaze turned to her and he watched her for a moment. Bulma was static when she felt his eyes on her, but she hurried over him when she saw him try to sit up on the bed.

“The doctor told you that you should rest! What don’t you understand?” she demanded, holding him back.

Vegeta raised a hand and held her.

“I'll give you all the money you need...” he began with a lot of effort, “And I'll look for your sister for you... if you keep your promise and build the engine we talk about. If you want to leave, you can do it, I'll write you a check and you can use it as you prefer...”

“Do you want to stay still?” Bulma answered and he finally paid attention, dropping on the bed.

He felt her hand on his forehead, Bulma thought he had a fever, but his temperature seemed normal.

“What are you going to do?”

"They gave you laudanum, Vegeta..." she explained as she sat next to him on the bed. “You are talking nonsense... Now sleep, you need to sleep. We'll talk in the morning.”

When she got up, she noticed that the soft brush of his hands on her arm slid to her hand. When she pulled away from him she felt the tips of his fingers touching hers and he shuddered. The unpardonable throb of her heart saddened her as she walked to the door, but the count's voice stopped her completely.

“I’m sorry…”

“What did you say?” She questioned as she turned around, after hearing that tiny whisper leave his lips, but Vegeta was completely asleep when confronted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excuse me if you find some mistakes. I waited for a job call all day and they didn't call me, I got depressed, I bought ice cream and I started to translate to distract myself. Thanks especially to the people who take a second to leave a comment, they are very good to me. Thank you so much!


	16. Chapter XVI

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**IN YOUR HANDS**

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**Chapter**

-XVI-

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When she closed the door behind her back she felt a wave of feelings mingle in an indecipherable way. There was so much happening simultaneously inside her that she really didn’t know what she should do. A part of her begged her to stay and take care of him, and that unworthy portion of herself beat fervently to feel him so close. Her skin burned at the touch of his hands. Meanwhile, another larger part still cornered her with logical thoughts laden with pride and courage. Vegeta didn’t deserve her, he had done nothing but insult and humiliate her with unthinkable creativity.

Hours ago, as she reluctantly returned with Yamcha to the Count's mansion, she had thought more calmly of her options and her sister Tighs appeared again in her thoughts. Several years ago she had stopped knowing about her, and although they had tried to convince her that she probably wouldn’t be alive, Bulma knew in her heart that it wasn’t like that. Her older sister had been intrepid enough to refuse her titles and leave home to find a new life elsewhere. In her last letter she had told her and her parents that she would go to the new world, but they never heard from her again. Many aristocrats were extremely concerned, especially her suitors, but the Briefs family seemed strangely calm about it. Tights had always been this distracted. In any case, Bulma no longer resided in her old address and although if her sister had sent her correspondence, she couldn’t have received it. And as she moved constantly from city to city, Bulma never knew where to write to when her father began to lose his fortune.

Finding Tights would be terribly complicated, especially for a single lady with a bunch of bills. But at the same time her memory emboldened her. If she had left for so long, of course Bulma could also travel wherever she wanted. Besides, she could not take Vegeta's words seriously. She knew quite well the effects of laudanum, she had administered it to her own father. And although the effect could vary from patient to patient, she was aware that maybe the next day he wouldn’t even be able to remember the last thing he said before falling asleep. Not even his apologies.

While she was thinking about all this, Tarble came back hurriedly to speak to her, but she noticing his presence, went ahead of him.

"Take it..." she said, handing him the laudanum bottle. “Take care of him, I should go now.”

“What? No, you can’t leave,” he answered and raised his hands to avoid receiving it. “Bulma, I have to go see something urgent. I need you to take care of my brother tonight and if you're not going to do it for him, I ask you to do it as a favor to me. Tomorrow I'll come early and we'll talk about this, but please, stay with him one more night.”

Bulma wanted to refuse, or just a part of her. She looked with reluctance at the flask and then at Tarble's distressed gaze.

“Okay, but tomorrow I'll go.”

“Thanks, Bulma...”

He retired so quickly that she didn’t had time to ask him about something that had caught her attention and could explain Vegeta's condition. The doctor who had treated him mentioned the bad image that caused them to fight in public. But, judging by how badly he was wounded, he had surely faced several men simultaneously. During the assault on the train he had gotten rid of at least three thiefs by himself, and couldn’t imagine what kind of situation could have been in to be end up punching with so many people.

She retraced her steps and looked for the bag that had been left behind in the stables. Then with regret she went back to what was her room and lay back, although after a few minutes she shifted uncomfortably. She was so far from the Vegeta’s room that she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to hear if something happened to him. She thought that if she was going to stay that night with the sole intention of taking care of him, she would rather do it properly. She got up wearing her only nightgown and went down the stairs, walked through the gloom to the ground floor and rummaged through the nearby rooms until she found another bedroom to spend the night. Fortunately, that property was immense, and being closer to him served to reassure part of her nerves, although not entirely since she soon discovered how much it was costing her to fall asleep.

The recent events had taken her from one decision to the other in a matter of seconds, throwing her from one extreme to the other. At first, her idea of going to look for her only living relative, without knowing for sure her whereabouts, or if she really was alive was born with intense fervor. But after seeing Vegeta lose consciousness, her heart skipped a beat and all the courage she felt towards him vanished almost completely. The next day she should leave, after making sure Vegeta was recovering. It would be impossible for her to spend more time with him knowing what she felt. She had kissed him, and the tingling of her lips hadn’t completely erased from her skin, although she would have liked it to erased. It would be easier to not feel so intimately attached to him. And the warmth of her skin wouldn’t make her feel so weak if he put a hand on her again.

It was incredible how much that first kiss had awakened in her, powerful enough for its simple memory to almost completely bend her will. The best thing she could do for herself would be to try to refrain from being alone with him, although it would be difficult considering she had to take care of him. The very idea of being totally indifferent to him was painful, but it pointed to a greater good and she owed it to her. It was due to her being strong and valued. The certainty that she deserved something better helped her to close her eyes and fall asleep, although the next day she woke up with the sensation of not having slept for ten minutes.

It was early even when she got out of bed and went out into the corridor, it shouldn’t be eight o'clock in the morning, but she knew that she wouldn’t be able to stand much longer, so she got up to get something to eat and wait for Vegeta to wake up.

She heard the sound of a door closing when she turned the corridor and, believing it to be another employee, she bent down to see. Surprised, she ran to him and held him with her small body. The difficulty he seemed to have in walking impressed her and she hurriedly reproached him.

“Have you lost your mind? The doctor told you that you have to rest! Why is it so hard for you to follow a simple indication? The only thing you're going to achieve is to hurt yourself more than you already have. I cannot believe you're so careless.”

Vegeta watched her calmly and a little surprised, as she clung to him as if he were going to collapse on the ground. He was somewhat weak, yes, however, not enough to be unable to walk to the next room.

"I'm going to the bathroom," he replied in a very unusual quiet tone. “Or do you think I also need your help with that?”

The spotless white of Bulma's cheeks stained with an intense vermilion and she released him. Her presence became nervous, she let go of him and stepped aside to let him pass.

"You're so funny..." she said in an ironic tone.He tilted a smile that shook her inside, but he turned his gaze away from her before he realized how much his gesture affected her.

Vegeta continued his journey to the bathroom and while he did, Bulma didn’t take her eyes off his naked torso until she forced herself to regain her composure. She recriminated the lust of her thoughts and tried to think of something to do to occupy her mind in something less sinful. Fortunately, the aroma of freshly baked bread that came out of the kitchen began to infest the ground floor and her stomach roared urgently. She hadn’t eaten anything since the previous afternoon, but she had been so incredibly nervous during the last hours that she had completely forgotten about it.

  
Bulma went quickly up to her room and dressed in that simple yellow dress she had found in the wardrobe the day she arrived at that mansion. For her, putting on one of her maid dresses would confirm to Vegeta that she was there to work for him, when truly the only obligation that bound her to be there was the promise she made to Tarble. Then she returned to the ground floor and went into the kitchen, greeted the employees with a splendid smile and they worried immediately asking for the health of their Lord.

“He seems to be in a good mood, at least he has humor to make jokes of bad taste.”

She loaded several bread rolls, jam and butter onto a tray. Then she placed a cup of warm milk and a cup of coffee. As she returned to Vegeta's room, she found him returning to the bedroom and meeting her gaze, he stopped and waited for her. Bulma tried to remain calm and passed him without saying a word and made her way to the room. Upon entering, she left the silver tray on the foot of the bed. Vegeta walked behind her and in that silent trance they shared seemed to reach an agreement. He sat down again on the bed and took a piece of bread. Then he did something similar with the coffee and Bulma found herself fascinated with that spectacle of naked and bruised torso. Of course, she wasn’t going to have breakfast on the bed next to him, so she turned to the door but as she pulled back Vegeta's harsh voice stopped her.

“Will you accept my proposal?”

She thought she could ignore it and pretend that she did not know what he was talking about, but for some reason she knew that Vegeta remembered perfectly what he had said the night before.

“You were talking seriously?” She answered without turning to face him.

“Yes.”

Vegeta could feel her doubts in the air. The lack of an answer began to rustle him second by second and he hurried on, but he felt her doubt exacerbated him.

“If you want to leave, then go. Bring me my checkbook and I'll write you a check immediately... Or stay and fulfill the promise you made to me and build that blessed motor that you've been boasting about since that trip. If you stay, I'll take care of finding your sister.”

She wanted to ask him why he wanted her to stay, but she knew that Vegeta could have a very cruel response waiting for her and she wasn’t sure if she could bear it. The anxiety generated by the insistent manner in which he looked at her forced her to leave, but while she was doing it the count raised his voice and she remained static.

“Answer me.”

"Give me some time and I'll think about it," she said, clinging to the doorframe.

She didn’t need to answer to leave, and she did. She walked away as far as possible from him and ended up having a coffee in the service area. She felt in a certain way fleeing from him, from the power that his words had over her and the intrigue that his intentions generated her. She thought about the possibility that his only desire would be to become disgustingly rich with her idea, if she really managed to make that engine work. And if after all that had happened between them that was his answer, she couldn’t tolerate it. The damage he had done to her was almost irreparable, although she was more likely to blame herself for letting herself fall into that deception, than for him for having caught her in his spell.

Suddenly she remembered Nathalie and the way she had left the brothel. She had hoped that she had gotten away from her escape, she was a woman with enough resources and, although she didn’t know Madame V at all, she hoped that she was not a tyrant just because she owned a brothel. In a way, it looked like the highest ranking ladder a woman could fit on her own in that area, and without a doubt, after everything that had happened, it seemed admirable to her in some way.Vegeta's proposal had gained strength now, said from his sober mouth and stronger than the night before. The tempting check he had offered her seemed to have no concrete value and she might even ask for an exorbitant sum that would help her have a good economic pass, at least for a while. Probably less time than she wanted if she kept moving to find her sister, who knows where in the world she might be.

Suddenly she realized the flaws that existed in her original plan. Bulma didn’t even know where to start looking for her sister. In contrast, Vegeta had not only the financial resource, but also the necessary contacts to extend a fruitful search. Maybe it would be difficult to bear his closeness, extremely difficult. But if doing so would help her to actually create the engine she had devised, maybe she could finally sell her idea and amass a fortune that would help her look for Tights without Vegeta's help. Even so, there was something that didn’t make sense. Total, and indisputably. The last time she had seen Vegeta at the ball he had been particularly cruel to her, he had literally unmasked her in front of everyone at the ball and had thrown her into the street without any contempt. It had all happened right after Black kissed her and she was sure it had to do with everything that was going on. However, he had gone from throwing her out like a dog to asking her to stay. The most surprising thing might not be the proposal itself, but the possibility that extended it by giving her a choice. Perhaps, as Nathalie had told her, he had understood his mistake during her absence, that’s why he had apologized to her.

That blank check he had offered her in case she preferred to leave, symbolized for her more than just financial help. It was his way of saying, without saying, that he was sorry.Bulma feared falling into too deep an analysis of what he was doing. Since she was in danger of letting her true feelings take over and justify all the humiliations that Vegeta had caused her.A young woman approached Bulma while absentmindedly stirring a spoon in her coffee cup. She smiled warmly and then told her that someone was waiting for her in the living room.

“Waiting for me?” she asked confused.

“Yes ma'am. She is a young lady.”

Convinced that it had been a mistake, she got up to see who was waiting for her. When she passed through the wide door frame, she saw her on her back, sitting on a small sofa on the side. Her neatly gathered black hair didn’t particularly capture her attention, and it was not until she turned around that she could recognize her.

Far from being moved by her presence, she was surprised and her expression didn’t take long to prove it. The young woman smiled at her, although she immediately noticed the uncomfortable atmosphere that had rushed between them. Bulma crossed her arms and hardened her brows.

“What are you doing here, Milk?” she asked in an inclement tone. Then she looked to the sides and realized that she was alone. “Did you come alone to the residence of a single man?”

“Bulma...” began with incredible anguish. “I didn’t know what to do, or where to go. I cannot talk to my parents... I came here in secret, I made sure nobody saw me enter. I was hoping you could understand me given your circumstances.”

“What circumstances are you talking about exactly?”

"Well... you're living in sin," she whispered modestly, afraid that someone might hear her.

“With Vegeta? I do not! Of course not, where did you get that from?”

“It's what everyone says. You are his lover and he has you living here with him, everyone says it.”

Despite the fact that it was expected after the disaster the start of the season dance, Bulma was outraged by what she heard. Her expression went from surprise to anger in a matter of seconds. She sat down on the sofa in front of Milk and remembered with some sorrow the way in which Vegeta had removed her mask at the dance. She still remembered the hisses around her, the whispers and laughter. The conclusions that would come out after that show were obvious and, considering the rumors that ran about Vegeta, it was enough to say that her own reputation had fallen to the ground. Her virtue now fictitious didn’t help her to value herself if nobody believed in it.

“All thanks to that stupid dance...”

After feeling sorry for herself, she wondered what Milk's purpose was there, and what could be what her alleged promiscuity would have to do with her. She looked at her again, this time surprised. Milk shifted in her seat with a complex expression that Bulma couldn’t decipher.

“What does all this have to do with you?”

“Not really... I just thought you could understand... I don’t have anyone to talk to about this. Excuse me, I was wrong, I'll leave. I'm not going to bother you with this, I think you have enough.”

The tragic face of that young woman stirred something inside Bulma and she instinctively got up and stopped her. It was that same feeling that moved Nathalie when she saw Bulma helpless in the street, with frozen skin and a brief suitcase in her hands.

“Tell me what happened...” she asked calmly.

Bulma hadn’t forgotten all those doors that had closed when she lost all her fortune and became an orphan. And one of those had been Milk’s house and her family. However, she felt the obligation to reach out to her, even if they had rejected her before.

“Bulma... I'm...” The afflicted face crumpled and quickly tears ran down her face. “I'm pregnant.”

She covered his face. It was the first time she had said it aloud and along with the weight she carried for the silence, her repressed anguish came to light and began to cry copiously. Bulma, uncomfortable, not knowing exactly how she should behave, wrapped her in her arms while the sad youth cried inconsolably. At that moment she understood what it was that united them, the embarrassment. The same that Bulma had experienced when the aristocratic society took for granted that she had lost her virtue. The same that would judge Milk until the repudiation for having a son in her belly without being married. It was a scandal, of those so horrific that families were able to intern their daughters in convents and deliver those children to who knows where so that they could continue with their lives, turning off rumors with alleged schools abroad.

 “And the father?” she asked, taking her by the shoulders.“He doesn’t know yet, my parents wouldn’t let me marry him...”

“Why?”

“Because he is a bastard son, he wasn’t recognized by his father... He has no money, no property, much less titles.”

Bulma looked worriedly at the way she caressed her stomach and, although she couldn’t yet truly appreciate that she was carrying a child, she knew that she already felt it.

“What are you thinking to do?”

She knew that there were doctors willing to give a solution to her problem, clandestinely. The price to pay for it was often the highest, however, everything depended on the desperation of each patient. If she managed to end that pregnancy, it was very likely that her womb wouldn’t be able to carry another child in the future.

"I'm not going to get rid of him," she replied with greater distress.

“Sit down, I'll bring you a cup of tea.”

Bulma went quickly to the kitchen. Once far enough, she let out a sigh. Milk's situation was so critical that she couldn’t find a solution to the inevitable dire fate that awaited her. Even worse than her own, with a son in tow unable to marry the man she apparently loved and submerged in misery. At least she had the freedom to run away as her older sister had, and the only responsibility she had was with herself. She returned a few minutes later, Milk had wiped the tears from her face and was sitting again on the same sofa as before. Bulma left a tray on the table in front of them and after Milk looked around curiously, she returned her dark eyes to the celestial ones of her.

“Is the count well?” she asked almost in a whisper, looking over her shoulder as she were if afraid he would show up.

“He's badly hurt, but he'll be fine. He just have to rest and recover...” she explained and an uncertainty awakened.

“I don’t know how you can stand to work for such a violent man.”

"He’s not violent," she replied with such vigor that she mentally reproached herself. Perhaps the only violent act she had witnessed coming from Vegeta had been the time he threw her shoes into the fireplace.

“If you say so…”

“What do you know about what happened to Vegeta?”

“To Vegeta?” Milk questioned, almost choking on her tea. “I see that you have become very familiar with the count.”

Bulma hadn’t noticed how quickly he had lost his title to her and had simply transformed into _Vegeta_. He was no longer Lord, nor Count, it was just him. It was Vegeta.

“It's complicated to explain. Besides, who are you to judge me? I’m not the one who is pregnant.”

“Bulma!”

“I'm sorry, but don’t think I've forgotten the way your family threw me when I went to find a place to sleep. I know you didn’t intercede for me, you let me be left on the street. And even if you couldn’t do anything to stop it and change your parents' opinion, you didn’t say anything.”

"You're right," she admitted in a broken tone. “I’m sorry.”

“No! You're not going to leave, we haven’t finished talking yet,” she said immediately when she saw her get up in a hurry. “Okay, I was also an idiot in the past. A spoiled brat who didn’t know any better... and I've paid for it too. I forgive you, Milk... But now, tell me what you know about what happened with the count.”

“Thank you, Bulma... The truth is that I don’t feel comfortable saying it in his own house...” she continued, bowing to her with complicity and lowering her voice. “He and Baron Black had a terrible fight after the dance. I don’t know why the altercation started, it was shortly after you left the room. When I arrived he was on top of the Baron and the police came to separate them. It was a scandal, they had to cancel the rest of the night. I understand that the count spent the night in prison along with the baron.”

“Now I understand...” Bulma whispered.

At first she had believed that Vegeta had been involved in a fight with several other men, although the thought that only Black had managed to leave him this way battered seemed possible. If Vegeta had ended up that badly hurt, she couldn’t even begin to imagine how the Baron would be by now. However, although that provided an explanation as to why the count was in that state, something wasn’t entirely clear. Since, if Vegeta had spent the night in prison, why hadn’t anyone seen his wounds even a day later and he was still bleeding? There was a part of the story that was still missing.

"Although I cannot say that I'm not glad he did it, that asshole of Baron Black has done nothing but make my Goku's life miserable.”

“You know Black?”

“Well... yes, he's Goku's half brother.”

“The father of your son...”

“Yes, Black is the Bardock’s only legitimate son. He had an affair with a butcher's daughter, and she ended up pregnant with Goku. The Baron never forgave him, never loses the chance to tell him that he would be better off dead. According to him Goku’s existence ruined his perfect life, and he is very upset since his father has started the procedures to recognize him. If he does... maybe my parents will let me marry him, but while Black lives he’ll not allow it...”

"That bastard... He told me something similar, that I was perfect for him..." she said thoughtfully. “I'm sorry I couldn’t be of more help, Milk. I'll try to ask Vegeta if there's anything you can do about Goku and his father.”

“Okay, Bulma. Anyway, I should leave before someone realizes I'm here.”

Before leaving, Bulma gave her one last hug. Milk didn’t need a magical solution to her problems, she just needed to get all that anguish out of her chest to continue hiding her reality with integrity and what better than her, the disgraced, impoverished orphan of the Briefs family who apparently was the mistress of the count, best known for distorting women in the city.

As she watched her leave, covering herself with a thick hood, she wondered what had really happened between Black and Vegeta. The idea that she had been at the center of their discussion made her feel a terrible mixture of emotions. If Vegeta had been motivated by jealousy, or simply by the fury of being pushed aside when he had just kissed her. It could even have been because of the lack of respect that it generated on himself and in reality, had nothing to do with her. After thinking about it several times, she realized that it would only contribute to generating empathy for the count and she really didn’t need it if she planned not to give her arm to twist.

She returned to the guest room in which Vegeta rested and as she thought about everything she had just heard she touched the door delicately and opened it after hearing how he invited her in. Vegeta was sitting on the edge of the bed and the silver tray she had left was completely empty. Bulma smiled without realizing it, a healthy appetite was considered a good sign. She took the tray and then looked at the count's uncomfortable face.

Vegeta couldn’t stop measuring the words he thought and ended without saying them anyway. Maybe he had never felt so strange and alien to a situation. On the one hand, he was incredibly annoyed at the way Bulma behaved, with feigned naturalness, as if a calamity hadn’t happened between the two of them. However, he could not help looking at her finely when she entered his room, ignoring his half-naked body that had managed to scandalize her when she arrived at his mansion.

He watched her smile at something he didn’t know and then retreated with the tray she had brought earlier. He heard the door close and was left alone again. He tried to digest the fact that Bulma was going to behave as if they hadn’t kissed in the first place, and maybe he would have to do the same thing, even if he wanted to drag her to his bed.

He sighed, exhausted from his own burden. He had never amended a mistake before, in all his life. And he had never regretted being so impulsive. He knew perfectly well that it would be worse to force her to give him an answer as soon as he wanted it, and he decided to be as passive as his body would allow.

When he got out of bed he felt the throbbing pain in his abdomen and hunched over, covering one side with his hands. Then he breathed with some difficulty, the pain was so deep that it managed to leave him without air when he made an effort. Of course, that wouldn’t stop him from following normally his daily routine. He took towels from a mahogany cabinet next to the door and left the room.

On the way to the staircase he came across one of his employees, who, seeing him so light with clothes, stared at the floor and apologized to him, even though she had no reason to do so. Vegeta thought that perhaps the one who should apologize to that poor woman was himself, but of course, he wasn’t going to do it. As usual, Vegeta stopped to ask her about the particularities of the day, if there were any, and at that moment he managed to find out about Bulma's visit a few minutes ago. He said goodbye after his employee and continued walking to the stairs, with the intention of going up to the first floor and taking a bath in his private bathroom.

"I can’t believe it," he heard her say behind his back. “Vegeta, what are you doing?”

He had already managed to reach the first floor with great difficulty. Bulma saw his weary look and frowned worriedly.

"I'm going to take a bath," he said, looking over his shoulder.

“Why didn’t you ask me for help? Let me prepare the tub... Obviously I cannot stop you from moving from one side to the other.”

She passed him and, although he wished to prevent her from intervening, he also knew that it would be in vain. He walked slowly to his room and when he looked at the bathroom he saw her heating the water in the tub. The count decided to sit on the stool by the window and wait while he watched her load bucket after bucket of hot water. He remembered then that this had been one of the first humiliating tasks he had requested. That time he had wallowed in the obvious embarrassment of her face. He liked the way her cheeks were dyed vermilion in an instant, how she hid her face so he wouldn’t notice. But above all he liked the way in which she forced herself not to abdicate, no matter how difficult the situation turned out to be.

Now, remembering that moment with such distance, he realized how much his relationship had matured. Bulma had volunteered to help him, though he wondered what her motives were. If maybe all this she did for him, ignoring the terrible way in which he had thrown her out, was simply a charitable act for her. Maybe it was mere pity what moved her.

"It's ready," she said, waiting for him in the bathroom.

“I can do it alone...” Vegeta answered when entering the bathroom and seeing that she didn’t retreat.

“Are you sure? Don’t be stubborn, I can help you.”

"Don’t insisting," he said in a cloudy but soft roar. “I’m not disabled.”

“No, you are just stubborn. You can hardly walk, what about if you slip and hit yourself.”

“You are the one who doesn’t understand reasons. I'm perfectly fine and I will not allow you to treat me like a cripple.”

“I’m not doing that!”

“I told you I don’t need you!”

“Okay! Do whatever you want. I don’t care!”

Insecure but furious, Bulma withdrew, though she felt reluctant to leave the room completely. Finally, she decided to lean over the door and listen through it until she was sure he was all right.

Damp wood stuck to her hair when she pressed her cheek against the wood. On the other side she could hear the movement of the water when he got in the tub and felt calmer when she didn’t hear any noise. Determined to be useful, she searched Vegeta's drawers to select some clean clothes so he didn’t have to make that unnecessary effort. Like it or not, she was going to do this.

He could hear her perfectly from the bathroom, and while he wondered what on earth was she doing, wandering from one side of his room to the other, he tried to be as brief as possible when he felt that the water began to lower its temperature due to the winter cold that began to hit the region. He held on tight to the brass edges of the tub as he left. The water had been dyed a murky dark color, at last his hair didn’t smell like dry blood anymore.

After wrapping himself in a towel, he went to his room and found his clothes waiting for him, lying on the bed. He couldn’t say it wasn’t convenient, it was. Reluctantly he dressed what she had arranged and left his room. Instinctively he looked for her, she still had to be close and he thought it was her when he heard footsteps approaching the front door.Vegeta leaned over the railing and looked down the ground floor, one of his employees walking towards the door and opening it. He stopped and waited, believing it would be someone looking for him. Contrary to what he expected, the young woman received a flower arrangement large enough to make it difficult for her to close the door. When she turned around, he noticed that she had an envelope in her hands and, surprised, he looked at her until she noticed his presence. She jumped slightly, surprised by the Count's presence a few meters away.

“What is that?”

“A gift for Miss Bulma.”

The words of his employee began to pierce him deeply. Expecting, he waited without knowing in what way what he had just heard submerged in him. Vegeta knew exactly what she had in her hands, but he feared he couldn’t control his emotions and destroy those roses before Bulma could see them. He understood that jumping on her, recriminating something that she would probably have no idea about, would be only repeating the same mistake that had made him run to a brothel to look for her, and he had learned his lesson perfectly. He wasn’t stupid.

"I'll give it to her," he said, stepping carefully down the stairs.

Vegeta took the bouquet of red roses and glanced at Black's letter. He didn’t had the need to inspect what was written there, but he was more than sure it was from him.

“Do you need something else, my Lord?”

“No... Where is she?”

“In the guest room.”

Slowly, he walked with a knot in his stomach and a deep desire to throw that sumptuous gift to the fireplace to feed the warmth of his mansion once again. However, he resisted and continued with clenched teeth and a fist wrapped between the stems of the flowers.

Bulma went down the hall with the sheets stained with blood from Vegeta’s bed and found him on the way.It felt strange to see him with those flowers in his hand and that weird expression of harsh suspicion. Her clear gaze wandered from his dark eyes to the red velvet of the flowers without knowing what she was actually witnessing.

  
"They are for you," he said, handing her the bouquet.

Her heart beat hard as she received that present, wrapped by the illusion that this gift came from the count. She was about to ask him why, when he handed her the envelope and turned around.

"Wait," she asked him.

He looked at her uncomfortably and realized the confusion that meet her generated.

"They aren’t from me," he said and left her cold.

If they weren’t Vegeta's, there weren’t many men who came to mind at that moment. She opened the envelope and before reading the long content of that letter her eyes quickly went down to the signature. Black.

At Vegeta's glance, Bulma's surprised gesture turned bitter and she pressed the letter onto her palm until it was reduced to a wrinkled ball. She walked by leaps and bounds beside him and went out the front door. The count couldn’t keep up, although he wanted to do it and see what was happening. But he managed to get to the window and watch her go out the front door with the bouquet in her hands to simply throw it into the street. He couldn’t help but smile and the doubt that was born in him a few minutes ago completely vanished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 2 a.m. in Argentina and I'm here translating my fic. I hope you see it sometime tomorrow! Thank you!


	17. Chapter XVII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a violent scene, please read with discretion.

* * *

** IN YOUR HANDS **

* * *

 

**Chapter**

-XVII-

* * *

 

_Dear Bulma, the regret I feel for the misunderstanding that occurred between us has been unbearable. Allow me to compensate my actions that were those of an anxious man, who doesn’t support the idea that you live with a scoundrel like Count Ouji. I heard that he threw you to your fate and that is something I would never have done. I offer you a roof where you want, I am at your disposal to pay for what you need. He doesn’t deserve to wander about your steps. He doesn’t deserve to breathe the scent of your sweet perfume. If you allow me, my lady, I will fill you with happiness._

_Always yours, Black._

_He quickly wrote his letter and handed it to a young man, who carried in his other hand the opulent bouquet of roses he had selected for Bulma. He placed a note in his shirt pocket and watched him leave the door diligently._

_Zamas shook his head in a negative gesture. Outraged by Black's lack of pride. Repudiating the road that youngster would travel to the count's mansion. But despite his obvious disapproving gaze and how much his intense desire bothered him, he remained by his side as he took another sip of whiskey._

_“Don’t you think you've had enough?”_

_“If I believed it, I wouldn’t have served another, don’t you think?”_

_He let out an annoyed laugh, almost a sigh. Then he sat next to him in that room where they always planned their next business and he missed that time when it was just him and Black. And, although he had tried repeatedly to dissuade him from pursuing that absurd goal that kept him awake, he knew that when he wanted something there was nothing in the world that could stop him._

_Defeated, he took the bottle of whiskey and poured that amber liquid into his glass and shared with him a moment of silence. He looked at him sideways, trying to get his most bizarre ideas out of his mind in a poor attempt to stop him from moving forward. Since the dance, Black had stopped being himself. His meticulous and well-anticipated way of being had collapsed on the floor, when he and Vegeta had gone to blows at the entrance of that mansion. Perhaps it wasn’t so much the embarrassment that his partner had made him pass what affected him, he was his right hand. What stirred him inside the most was to see him that way, disproportionate, invaded by his most primitive desires. Seeing him loaded in the trunk of a police car had left him with one of the crudest feelings he had ever experienced. Never had despair consumed him like that. The uncertainty that plagued him about Black's future didn’t let him sleep, it didn’t allow him to spend a moment away from him without knowing for sure what he was doing or what he was capable for achieving his mission._

_What if he came back for her and he wasn’t there to stop him? The mere thought of seeing him face Vegeta once more made his nerves ache. Unsure if Black would know when to stop so as not to kill the count and end up behind bars. And, if he had the idea so deeply rooted in him, to make that insignificant woman his wife, would he be able to send someone to kill Vegeta out of the way? Zamas hoped he wasn’t so careless as to commit that act, not because the count's life meant something relevant to himself, but because of the public nature of his altercation. Black would be the first suspect._

_“I don’t want you to get near the count.”_

_“Don’t worry I will not.”_

_“I want to believe you, the old Black I would have believed. But this one... this one, I don’t know.”_

_The baron laughed softly with the glass of whiskey brushing his lips. He hadn’t turned to see his partner’s gray eyes for a moment. His calculating gaze visualized something else, something that wasn’t in the room. A plan that Zamasu didn’t have the slightest idea about._

_“And if she rejects you? The woman came back to him even after how he embarrassed her at the ball. I don’t know who has less dignity, you or her. Maybe you are right and she is ideal for you.”_

_“She returned because he has nowhere else to go.”_

_“And you are going to offer her a place to live?”_

_“Perhaps.”_

_“We can look for another noblewoman, there is a marchioness who will be in age next year. At least think about the options. Let me send a proposal to the Archduchess of Norternville, end this stupid whim for once and concentrate on something more important like convincing your father not to recognize his bastard.”_

_The Baron's gesture hardened at the words of the viscount. He was overwhelmed, overwhelmed by situations he never considered would become a reality. Suddenly he was so obfuscated that he thought that at any moment he would throw his drink from the other side of the room, but he vehemently retained his impulse in silence. After a few minutes he finally looked at Zamas._

_“Don't worry about that, just take care of delaying the recognition of my father's bastard.”_

_“_ _I'm trying... but since he got sick I haven’t been able to hinder the process. He has insisted on supervising everything personally. At this pace in a couple of days everything will be done and we can’t do anything about it.”_

_“_ _But you're not going to let that happen, right?” His tone was again the velvet it used to, for a single moment he was back._

_His grayish gaze became apprehensive. Doubt rushed over him, unable to answer with absolute certainty. If Bardock died, consumed by his condition, part of his inheritance would go to his son Goku. His heart cringed, touched by the blind trust he conferred on him. Black knew that if there was anyone in the world who could trust his entire life with, it was Zamas._

_"Sure," he said, forgetting all the worry that was weighing on him for a moment._

_A few minutes passed when the same child who had left, returned. His obtuse gesture was clear to Zamas, and fearful of the reprisals that would start from the moment he observed Black's disturbing countenance. Bulma had rejected his present._

* * *

 

The morning had gone torturously slow and Bulma had to decide what to do with her life before Tarble arrived and she was finally released from her promise. After throwing vigorously the bouquet of roses on the street and see how the carriages and horses passed over it, she felt instantly gratified. As she retraced her steps a little more calmly, she hesitated. She put one foot on the step and realized that she should choose whether to re-enter or leave forever. Unable to continue, she leaned on one of the beams that supported the roof of tiles and turned. She stood on the porch for a moment, watching the petals sloppily adorning the stone street.

After everything that had happened in recent days and Vegeta’s firm promise to support her project, she hadn’t sat down to analyze carefully her options. She had only rambled on them with her heart clenched in her hands.She knew at that moment that she had to choose what would be best for her regardless of what her heart cried out to her. If she left, her resources would be limited, and the possibility of finding Tights was that, a mere possibility. There was no certain and quick way to determine if she would be alive, or in what part of the world she would be. But if she find her, she would finally have the family that had lost some time ago.

However, Bulma knew that her sister might not be economically stable. And that the possibility of showing the world that she was capable of building something as magnificent as a carriage engine would have vanished from her hands. And she would be as poor as the day she lost her mother.

Nothing would have been worth all those promises if she didn’t use the resources that Vegeta offered her, she probably wouldn’t have another opportunity to prove what she really was worth. Because Bulma’s value had fallen to the floor in recent days. Without fortune, and with a questionable virtue, she was hardly worth the future title she would give her husband. And the man who wanted her just for it and the children she could give him wasn’t the husband she deserved to have by her side.Even if she was a virgin, what they believed about her was more valuable than what she truly was.

“You must do the most convenient...” she whispered.

The most convenient for her, that was what she had to have in mind. It didn’t matter how hurt Vegeta was, or the promises they wanted to make her comply. Neither Milk, nor Tights, nor anyone else mattered in terms of the choices she would make for her life. And finally, when she knew what was best for herself with total clarity, she went back into the residence and found Vegeta waiting for her, sitting on a sofa in the hall. Bulma sat on another like that, closer to the window. The memory of their first conversation came to him and she noticed how much they had changed since that day. Vegeta sensed the way she moved and looked at her as she had something important to say to him and waited, trying to keep his composure under his icy countenance.

“I have made a decision…”

The count tensed immediately upon hearing the firmness of her words. Her frown was clear evidence of how serious their conversation had become.

"Well..." he said from the other side.

“I'll stay here and start the project. I will need a room to work, I already had some sketches... When I finish the designs I’ll need to create the pieces and...”

"I can hire someone for that," he interrupted quickly.

“And when it's over... We'll sell the project and divide it into equal parts. I hope that by that time you have found my sister, because I plan on going after her when she this is finished.”

The decision was reflected in her eyes, and it was final. Vegeta gritted his teeth and his hand wrapped tightly around the armrest of his sofa, but he said nothing. His expression didn’t seem affected by the firmness of Bulma's words and for a brief moment he wondered why he had chosen to finance that project in the first place. Why had he offered her the space and money to plan something that he didn’t believe she could achieve? Deep down, where even he himself couldn’t see, it was only a plea for her to remain by his side without directly saying so. If Bulma stayed, after all he had done to her, it wouldn’t be because he asked her to stay by his side. However, it wasn’t enough. The sense of victory that he had tasted slightly when she said she would stay slipped through his hands at the conviction of her tone when she said he would leave after.

At least he could be sure that she would not leave the door of his mansion aimlessly and helpless. And in a way that comforted him. If this was all there would be between them, at least he was calm listening it from her lips.

“Perfect.”

Bulma stared into the count's black eyes and a part, miserable and stubborn of herself, begged for him to stop her. She wanted him to say something, some impossible word that would never be uttered by his lips. And she knew it, she knew him enough to know that he wouldn’t stop her. Vegeta wasn’t going to beg anyone, and neither was she.On the verge feeling hill, she got up and asked permission to leave. She walked as quickly as she could to her room and closed the door to fall back on it with a sore heart. He hadn’t said anything.

“What did you expect?” She asked with a sad frown and laughed at herself.

Fortunately, Vegeta hadn’t noticed the change in her gesture when answering, as he was very busy keeping his own. After spending a few minutes alone in the living room, he got up and walked quietly to his office. As he sat in front of the desk, he discovered that he had begun to sweat and recriminated himself for allowing himself to reach that point. If only he had ignored Nappa's gossip, he would never have fallen in front of that house of degenerates.

From the pocket of his jacket he pulled out a white cloth handkerchief and wiped his forehead knowing that he should take things slowly, even if his blood boiled him back to his usual condition.

At noon, as expected, Tarble knocked on the door. Soon he arrived at Vegeta's office and opened the door with the slight hope of not finding him there. The count raised an eyebrow, while writing a letter and with the pen still in the air he looked at his younger brother.

“I was hoping it was a lie that you were working.”

"You are not expecting me to spend all day sleeping, prostrate in a bed," he answered in a quiet tone, while soaking the tip of his pen over the inkwell.

"I expected you to be smarter and do something for your own well-being, but I suppose it's a lot to ask." He sat on a couch by the window and looked through it for a second. “Dr. Smith will be back in an hour to check on you, he will be very disappointed that you are not resting.”

"Well, he'll have to get used to it." Tarble had an intriguing gesture on his face and Vegeta didn’t take long to notice. He had clasped his hands over his abdomen and interlaced his fingers, as if he were planning something he didn’t know and suddenly it bothered him too much.

“Are you not going to tell me what you came for?”

“What? I can’t come to visit my brother after seeing him almost dying the day before?”

“Dying is somewhat exaggerated, and I have the feeling that my health isn’t the only thing that is going through your mind.”

“How did it go with Bulma?” He asked, resting his chin on one hand. “Have you two reconciled?”

Vegeta, as on very few occasions, quickly blushed. But the modesty of his skin dulled under his frown and the way he gritted his teeth. Despite the count's expression, Tarble smiled. Perhaps, in another occasion, he would have been more careful with his words. But today, knowing perfectly that Vegeta would be dealing with certain physical limits, he was tempted to walk on the fine line that his brother had delimited on the subjects of their conversations.

“I don’t want to hear your nonsense.”

“Is that a _no_?”

Uncomfortable, the count stirred in his seat trying to concentrate to finish writing that letter. The truth was that not even he knew if he had managed to correct in a certain way the mistake he had made during the dance. Tarble sighed, his brother's disturbed gaze was more sincere than his words. Vegeta hadn’t managed to completely fix the mess he had gotten himself into.

“Okay, I didn’t come to mortify you. I just wanted to make sure you were okay, try not to work too hard. Everyone here knows how strong you are, you don’t have to prove anything to anyone.”

Silently he watched him retire and there were no words that came out of his mouth. His expression returned to how serious it always was, however, he couldn’t return to the letter and then realized that he had already spilled a few drops of ink on it. With annoyance he left the pen in the inkwell and crumple the letter, but when wrapping it with his hands he realized the work that was taking him to pressure his fists. He was exhausted.

On the first floor, Bulma gathered her notes, arranging them on the bed and examining them when someone knocked on her bedroom door. She already had a list of reproaches believing that Vegeta had climbed the ladder again, but when she opened it and met Tarble, she remained silent and could only pronounce his name with some surprise. She had almost completely forgotten that she had to see him at noon, but when she met his smiling and a little sad face, she remembered that they had to talk about her promise.

Bulma left her room and closed the door behind her without knowing exactly how to begin that conversation, but fortunately Tarble started quite fast.

“I just saw Vegeta, he seems to be doing better... although I think it’ll be really difficult to put him back to bed.”

Tarble's words, though of innocent intent, made Bulma blush. She wandered with her eyes on the floor and cleared her throat trying not to think about what she had just heard.

“I kept my promise, last night I took care of him and this morning too. As much as possible, your brother is very stubborn.”

“He is, and I'm sorry I put you in that position. But there is no one else to whom I could ask that favor.”

“It's your brother, Tarble. You should have been here with him, even if he didn’t want  you here. It's your family, it's your responsibility.”

Bulma's tone had risen progressively and Tarble couldn’t do more than bend his head with his back contracted. She crossed her arms, and in spite of her annoyance she knew that in a certain way there wasn’t much she could reproach him.

“You're right, I shouldn’t have leave that way and leave all the responsibility to you. But if you want to know the truth, not only I asked you because you know him well, I asked you because he allows you things that he would never have accepted from another woman. If it was me, perhaps, I would have been unconscious if I tried to give him a drop of laudanum, but with you it's different and I know you know it. Even so, if you decide to leave I will understand it completely, I will deal with him as it is my duty.”

“Well... The truth is that we reached an agreement and I’m not leaving, for now,” she said vehemently, seeing a hint of a smile curving Tarble's lips. “And I will not take care of him, he has many employees to have him well taken care of.”

“Of course... Anyway, I'm glad that you decided to stay a while longer, your presence here is very positive for him, although he doesn’t admit it. Now, I know you'll probably reproach me for leaving so soon, but I think he's fine here without me.”

There was something about Tarble's smile, and a little complicity in his gaze. It was strange that they had the same black eyes and at the same time transmit such different feelings. He left as he had said and Bulma remained on the stairs wrapped in what she had just heard. A strange feeling came under her skin, the thought that she was special caressed her thought and immediately closed her eyes tightly. She couldn’t afford to fall that way again.

Little time passed until one of his employees knocked on the door and told her she could go to the table to eat.

Getting to the chair where he ate on a daily basis had become a more laborious task than he remembered, and the pain in his abdomen was beginning to hold him accountable.

"Damn it..." he murmured as he dropped on the chair.

Once there, his gaze wandered between his plate and the adjoining seat. The plates were there waiting for Bulma to get down to accompany him, but she didn’t. Dr. Smith arrived after Tarble left and reiterated Bulma and Tarble’s reproaches. But this time Vegeta said nothing, he knew perfectly well that his body demanded some rest if he didn’t want to collapse somewhere in his mansion once again. Fortunately, there was nothing particularly worrisome about his condition, so when his family doctor left, Vegeta walked slowly to his room expecting to sleep for a few hours. He couldn’t help but notice that Bulma had left the door of her room ajar. Apprehensive about it, he leaned over and noticed that she wasn’t there. He saw several sheets scattered across the bed and the floor, covered with scribbles impossible to decipher. There was some regret inside him, and he tried not to think too much about what they had agreed a few hours ago. When he reached his bed, he regretted deeply that he had dressed that morning, since removing his boots and jacket by himself had felt like torture.

In one of the mansion's libraries, Bulma tried to find the right books for the research she was carrying out. Although she had read countless books in her previous life, there was still much that she did not know and Vegeta's lavish library was just what she needed. She piled book after book after looking quickly at the index and selecting what would be useful or not. At last her mind was clear enough to go towards her goal. When the count finally woke up at least he didn’t feel so deeply fatigued. However, he still didn’t feel at ease since Bulma hadn’t come to eat during dinner. Despite this, he was reluctant to look for her, when she had clearly established that she didn’t want to know more about him. If she was hungry she would eventually appear in the kitchen, he supposed. If she needed something she would probably ask for it. But that thought slowly became more insignificant as he finished his plate of food. The intact porcelain next to him, caused an uneasy feeling to be born from his bowels. He had to know what the hell she was doing.

Slowly he walked down the ground floor, but imagined that she would be in one of the libraries, after seeing that several books were missing in the first one. The mansion was particularly quiet, and the warm light of some candles caught his attention in the largest library in the residence. He heard a moan and, when he finally peeked out to see, he found Bulma on a table, balancing on a stack of books, trying to reach those on the highest bookshelf. He leaned back against the frame, arms crossed and without emitting sound, he observed her. The pile of books rocked gently beneath her body, unstable. He wondered why she had not gone looking for a ladder instead of improvising in that way, but he found it interesting to ask himself the answers. He tilted a smile when she held on to a hand on the last shelf and reached for the book. Her mistake had clearly been that slight leap she used to propel herself and grab it, as it caused the pile of books to fall apart and Bulma was left hanging only from her left hand.

 _And now what are you going to?_ Vegeta wondered gracefully as he watched her bereaved face.

"Shit..." Bulma murmured feeling her fingers sliding.

“What are those manners?”

She saw his while face turning, smiling in that creepyly attractive way. His arms, slightly open were the obvious sign of waiting for her to fall. But Bulma frowned when she found him.

“Are you crazy? You are injured. Move, let me fall to the ground.”

“And since when do you give orders to me? That wasn’t part of the deal.”

“Do you want to break another rib?”

“I didn’t know you had gained so much weight.”

“I didn’t!” she exclaimed as the tips of her fingers slid from the shelf.

Her skirt floated for a moment, along with her hair, but was immediately held by him as promised. He held her tightly, holding her to him from the thighs. Her abdomen, facing the Count's face, he experienced a strange and inexplicable pain.

Bulma lowered her gaze and faced his that still tilted his characteristic smile. He raised an eyebrow, but his gesture changed in an instant, he was experiencing some pain. He released her slightly and her feet touched the ground. Bulma completely forgot the way his big hands wrapped around her waist and dropped the book to the floor to cling to his shoulders as she quickly inspected his face and abdomen.

“Are you okay? I told you to leave me! Why do you have to be so stubborn?”

"You're welcome," he said, brushing off the touch from her hands.

Bulma retracted her gesture on his chest as if she had just awakened and turned to take the book she had been looking for. The count's hazy gaze traveled through all the books she had arranged in that room until he found sketches on one of the many pages scattered on the tables in that room. He looked sideways at Bulma, reading the index of that book very quickly and taking advantage of her distraction took one of those pages and put it in his pocket before she could notice it. She turned with satisfaction after discovering what she was looking for in that copy, crossed her arms and watched the Count standing in front of her with his hands in his pockets.

“I can help you with something?”

“Do you know what time it is?”

"It must be six o'clock..." she looked for the nearest standing clock and realized that it had been four hours after six o'clock. “Wow... the hour flew by.”

“You should go down to eat something.”

“Is the Count worried about me?”

"The count is going to invest a substantial amount in you, and I don’t want to know that you fell starving in some corner of this mansion because the hour flew by.”

"Don’t worry," she insisted, with a naturally flirtatious smile, "in a few minutes I'll go down and eat something. By the way, can you authorize me to use your account in the library? I imagine you have one, even if you don’t use it. I would use mine... but my balance expired a while ago and there is some information that I can’t find here.”

“In the morning I will give it to.”

“Thank you.”

Vegeta felt that there were no more reasons to prolong that encounter, and her caramelized smile and the disturbing sound of her lovely voice began to set his nerves on edge. He was indisposed to know that she could use that form of his feminine trickery to get what she wanted, and even more it made him shiver to feel himself falling under her charms with such ease. However, he was stronger than his baser instincts and more so was his pride. He turned around, but a shuddering sensation crept up his neck and traveled down his back when she said goodbye.

“See you tomorrow, Vegeta.”

"Good night," he answered without seeing her.

Bulma got rid of her brazen disguise by seeing his shadow disappear from view. Her heart was beating with the vigor that only he could provoke. With the simple curve of his eyebrows and the sufficient and seductive expression of his smile. The modesty that caused her to have him so close to her heated her chest and cheeks and she hated herself for being so tempted to be by his side.She didn’t know if it had been Tarble's words, or the idea of having to endure his closeness, but suddenly she felt suffocated. Discouraged by the magnitude of her feelings and the unexpected calm that existed between them. If there was one thing she knew with more certainty, it was that she had to work and finish as soon as possible.

The following days passed under the same dynamic, Bulma devoted her time almost exclusively to working on her project and Vegeta wandered around her on a few occasions, overseeing her work. On one of those days he asked her to take her things to a room on the first floor and had his employees bring a couple more desks for her. And when she arrived there she found some work tools were waiting for her that were very useful for measuring and writing her plans. The count had gotten a desk design especially for her, although he hadn’t said it openly.While Bulma worked day and night, Vegeta hadn’t wasted time and during one afternoon left the mansion with a particular goal.

_"Tell me, what do you see?”_

_He adjusted his round frame glasses before holding that piece of paper between his hands. He examined it with a frown and then ruffled his beard and mustache with an intrigued gesture. He looked the count in the eye, but there was nothing in his expression that could shared some information._

_“It is very ambitious, I can tell you that. Although, clearly it is not a plausible project...”_

_Vegeta noticed in the engineer's eyes a kind of anxiety and, despite his refusal, didn’t change his iron expression._

_“Uhm... maybe, if I could see the rest of the design I could...”_

_"It will not be necessary," he said, pulling the piece of paper out of his hands. “Here, a payment for your services,” he quickly put a coin on the table as he stood up and buttoned the single button on his blue suit._

_“But... Count! I assure you that with my knowledge that sketch can become a reality. There are many mistakes to correct, surely you are working with an amateur.”_

_“That's not your problem.”_

_As he climbed back into his carriage, he saw Miles's bitter face. One of the most recognized engineers in the city. Vegeta again saw Bulma's sketches on that sheet of paper and for the first time he felt anxious about what she was creating._

It would be hard for him to admit how amazed he was when he realized the value of those pages. He remembered Miles’ expression, who almost slipped from his lips just seeing a scribble of the hundreds she had.Was it possible that a woman could do what no man had done before?Returning to his mansion, he wandered the path he knew well, and would take him to the room where Bulma would be working. He knocked on the door, even with that new sensation running through his skin."Go ahead..." He heard on the other side of the door and pushed it gently.With the piece of paper in one hand he contemplated her strange countenance. She was sitting on the desk, facing a wide window that overlooked the gardens. There was something disturbing in her face. Her frown paralyzed, like a frightened animal, immediately attracted the count's attention."I found this," he lied, showing her the sketch.

“Vegeta...”

“Yes?”

“Can Yamcha accompany me to the library next time?”

“Any problem?”

Suddenly she looked into his eyes and he felt the dread throbbing inside her.

“I spent several hours in there, when I realized the sun had set and... and I left... While I was returning, I had the feeling that someone was behind me… stepping on my shoes... But every time I turned around there was nobody there. However, I ran. I came running the last blocks, I lost one of the books on the road… I’m sorry, it wasn’t my intention…”

“You didn’t see anyone?”

“I saw a silhouette when I arrived, but I couldn’t make out his face. He saw me come in here and left... Maybe I should go for the book that fell, it was important.”

“Forget the damn book. Next time I'll leave you, and I'll pick you up when you're done. The groom has a job to do and is not to be your personal coachman.”

Bulma smiled despite the count's obfuscated and rude tone. Vegeta remained static when he saw her smile genuinely and close her eyes to contain the nervous tears that escaped her.

“Thank you…”

“There are plenty of ruffians in the streets. You should have told me before that you would be back alone at night, I wouldn’t have let you.”

“Now who cares about who?” she half smiled.

“I like to take care of my investments.”

Again Bulma's heart pounded in her chest, but to her good fortune Vegeta left the sheet of paper on a desk and left. Soon after, she dropped on the desk, victim of her weakness. It passed through her memory that night in which she had kissed him, shaken by the memory of his caresses. For the possessive form that he wrapped his hands around her waist and tangled his fingers in her hair. She still remembered vividly the taste of his lips, as she remembered the embarrassment that had invaded her when he removed her white mask.

Lately she was constantly being invaded by contradictory thoughts, and she was requiring all her willpower not to be let down by her deepest and most shameful desires. How could she so desire the man who had mistreated her so many times? And why sometimes that man and this Vegeta did not seem to be the same person?

She was terrified, certainly. Terrified to fall at any time in a crossing of words as delicious as tempting, that somehow guide her irremediably to fall on his lips again. And she hated the unfortunate self-image that came to her when she thought she was about to fall.

One afternoon she found herself spying on him through the window, while she was supposed to be working. She found the accelerated way in which his wounds healed so surprising. A week and a half had passed and he seemed to be walking quite normally, and was even preparing to ride his horse.

He held a conversation with Yamcha, who from time to time raised his eyes to see her and smile at her. Vegeta seemed more focused on Storm than on the groom. He measured the reins and made sure the saddle was firm. Suddenly Yamcha went to the stables and while the count waited for his return, he watched him remove a glove to caress the black mantle of his coat.

She found herself lost in thoughts, observing that simple action that, at that moment, seemed significantly warm. Storm was a particular creature, like Vegeta, she thought. However, with her Storm had never had those uncontrollable outbursts that seemed to show, being near the groom. Although, she had only interacted with him once.

Why did she feel they had been more?

After two weeks of hard work during the day and night, Bulma had finally finished the engine plans and felt so accomplished as exhausted. She ended up sleeping for most of the afternoon and only woke up to join Vegeta at dinner.

The count watched with a raised eyebrow and still chewing, her rosy face as she approached to sit beside him. She smiled broadly and poured herself an important portion of puree.

“When I told you to eat, I did not think you would take it so seriously.”

“Will not manage to change my mood, not today Vegeta. If you haven’t noticed, I'm in a good mood.”

“And to what do we owe this miracle?”

“I finished the plans, I'm practically halfway there.”

The count looked at her with urgent attention, then wiped the corner of his mouth with a napkin and laid it on the table. Vegeta's icy gaze made her feel apprehensive about what she had just said.

“If that’s true I want you to write the specifications of the parts you need, each gear and nut, oil and others. I will make an appointment with a supplier to give us a quote and an estimated date for you to start the assembly process.”

Suddenly Bulma had run out of air. Perhaps, in a way, despite money and space, she had never felt the genuine support of Vegeta on that project they had started. But now, after hearing the confidence in each word he spoke, she was invaded by the warm embrace of his confidence. Vegeta trusted her.

She thought he would not have until after seeing her dream come true. But that was not enough for him. He was too smart to be carried away by a girl's naive dream. Perhaps, but for the hungry look of that engineer, he would have been carrying an immense restlessness with him until the day that project ended.

"I'll get to work on that when I'm finished with dinner," she answered with satisfaction.

As promised, the next morning she had finished with the lists and specifications for their future supplier. Bulma carefully picked her hair with the sole intention of projecting a professional image. She dressed in her turtleneck dress and the shoes she had bought herself.

When going down the stairs, Vegeta waited patiently to join her and get into the carriage. On the way to the restaurant in which they had made the appointment, Bulma's stomach turned and a new kind of anxiety began to invade her. A different one than Vegeta made her feel. One more disturbing, probably. When the car stopped and the driver opened the door to take her hand and help her down, she could not imagine what other pressure she would have to endure. Vegeta offered his arm cavalierly and both entered the premises.

The environment flooded with exquisite aromas received them, under the intense light of the strategically located lights. Candelabra and burgundy rugs, tailored suits and expensive dresses. Bulma felt like giving a look at her past life but her curious gaze stopped at a person who had been seeing her from the moment she entered, holding on to the count's arm.

"Black is here," Vegeta said, leaning toward her.

"I've noticed," she answered in an icy tone, lashed by the memory of the last meeting in which those three had been wrapped.

Irremediably they walked until they were a few meters away from him. Black seemed to be waiting for a table with a couple of gentlemen. The count approached the platform where a very neatly presented man observed a list of reservations.

“A table for four, please.”

The gentleman looked up and immediately recognized the nobleman in front of him.

“Count Ouji, of course sir. Give me a few minutes and the next table is yours.”

Vegeta couldn’t help but smile at Black's sour expression. He was a baron and anyone should respect the ladder in which an count was, above him. And so they did while procuring a table for Vegeta even having arrived after Black. Bulma, on the other hand, didn’t feel very comfortable about what was happening, and although she had been avoiding the baron's furtive gaze, she felt his insistent black eyes on her skin.

"Enjoy your evening, Count." left Black's lips with a certain poisonous air.

The count observed him for the last time before retiring when he was escorted to his table. The wrathful expression of Black was poorly disguised, unlike other occasions. Upon reaching the table Bulma took a seat escorted by the waiter who then lit the candle in the middle of the table. Vegeta sat next to her, leaving the two chairs facing them free.

"I'm a little nervous," she confessed softly, bowing slightly to the earl.

“They are the ones who should be.”

“I see you very confident.”

"And I see you as a frightened little child, where is the woman who’s not afraid to insult a count in his face? The one that despised countless times the attentions of a baron and will embarrassed that mediocre business in which they wanted to involve me. It would be good for you to bring her back and take this scary little mouse away.”

“I like the particular way you have to flatter me.”

"And I like..." Vegeta's dark gaze rose as he saw that his guests had arrived. He stood up quickly and shook his hands. After greeting him and Bulma cordially, they sat in front of them.

"Dear Count, I have not seen you since you were a little men. I'm glad to find you in such good company,” he began with a smile.

"Then I suppose you will be even happier to know that you have my partner in front of you.”

“Oh, excuse my manners, ma'am. Will you also finance this project?”

"Actually, no," she said. “I designed it, the count is the one who will finance it.”

Both were completely confused, and while one wandered from Vegeta to Bulma and vice versa, the other untied the knot of his tie.

"Excuse me, I'm not sure I understood," the second gentleman said.

“I think you understood it perfectly,” the count said.

“Does she have any kind of... training in the area?”

"None," Bulma answered firmly. “But I have reviewed my plans again and again and there is nothing that can go wrong.”

“Your plans?” He asked, caressing himself between his lips. “This has to be a joke... No, your father would never have made us waste our time this way.”

“And neither do I, this is a serious proposal.”

“This is unheard of!”

“A woman designing? What, toys?”

“I don’t intend to waste my time on nonsense.”

“Sit down, Jonas!” Vegeta said in an incredibly threatening tone.

The room suddenly fell silent and Jonas noticed how the people were watching him closely. Embarrassed, he sat down again in front of the count and adjusted his tie.

“Well, let me see your plans.”

Bulma quickly removed the designs she had prepared the night before from her purse and extended them to him. Vegeta noticed the transition from his gaze, from complete apathy, to deep confusion. He crossed his arms and half smiled at the Miles’s expression. However, he didn’t seem as desperate as the first engineer to be part of his project.

“Did she really?...” he questioned the count.

"Yes, I did," Bulma broke in.

“Uhm... well, it will take some time. They are somewhat complicated.”

“How fast?” the count asked.

“One month?” Miles asked Jonas.

“Two months, minimum.”

“I want them in two weeks.”

“It is impossible, we have hundreds of orders to dispatch. If you don’t like our proposal, you can search for another provider.”

“Yes, I can do that. But you are not in a position to reject this offer, after all it has come to my attention that your company is about to declare bankruptcy.”

“Our company may be going through a bad time, but we are not so desperate to work on designs invented by a woman.”

“What’s the problem? Are they too complicated for you to understand?” Bulma questioned. “Is your ego bigger than your need to work? Or is it that you refuses to work with us because you two can’t stand the idea that a woman could have invented something more valuable than what you can do in your whole life?”

“Insolent child...”

"Oh, she's very insolent and I can assure you that," Vegeta said, smiling, "but she doesn’t lie. And neither are you in a position to reject this deal, nor can I continue to waste time with a pair of men so afraid of working for her. If you don’t have the guts, get up from the table and leave the seat to someone willing to collect a very large check.”

Ecstatic to hear the count’s words, Bulma smiled at the merchant who finally and with clenched teeth under his false smile, accepted the business. After a tight shake of hands, Bulma had closed her first deal and had almost forgotten Black's presence in the restaurant.

It was quite uncomfortable for them to continue sitting there after their harsh exchange of words, but when the food arrived Bulma was able to hold a more civilized conversation and explain to them more calmly what their project basically consisted of. It was strange, since there was an almost natural rejection of those men towards her and, although they had agreed to do the work, Bulma knew that they did not believe in her at all. They would probably be thinking that they would take the count's money and leave him with a lot of pieces that, in the end, wouldn’t have any use.

Bulma knew the feeling behind their gaze, and it was the feeling of failure. She didn’t allow that energy to ruin her dinner, or her business. And Vegeta didn’t seem to be disturbed by what had just happened either. Surprisingly, he seemed very prepared for the answers he would receive, especially when revealing the status of the company they represented. The count had looked for someone who, in short, could not refuse to work for them both.

Their farewell was terse, but cordial. When they finished eating, Vegeta informed them that early in the morning he would send the contract with the stipulated delivery date to their office. Bulma, on the other hand, couldn’t help looking nervously at the surroundings hoping to find Black, but ended her search immediately by feeling one of the count's hands brushing her lower back. She breathed in with force and dissimulation, when she turned to Vegeta's face he seemed most natural. And why would he not? He had only touched her with the tips of his fingers.

“Ready to go?” He asked with some effortful cordiality.

“Y-yes...” she hurried, taking a step forward to stop feeling his touch.

Vegeta quickened his pace when he saw Bulma walking so quickly to the carriage, and watched her take the hand of her coachman to get up as soon as possible. When he went up he found her sitting by the window and it seemed to him that she was intentionally walking away from him. He tried impetuously to control his temper and simply sat down without saying anything. He didn’t even know what her problem was now. He had been extraordinarily calm… Was she upset because he called her insolent?

Bulma, on the other hand, was more affected by his good behavior. Outraged by the way her body shuddered at his side.

While the car started on the way to the mansion, she got lost in the stained glass windows and the people walking along the sidewalks. She tried to distract her mind from what she was feeling for him. Since when did the fury began to fade? Slowly, she realized that her feelings for him had only managed to grow day by day. Such mundane things as sharing breakfast or waiting for dinner to see him again. Spying him while he was on his horse in the afternoon or listening to him argue with his brother for trifles when he left the office door open. All those moments had brought her a smile in one way or another. An inevitable smile, sweet, mediocre and with a total lack of pride.

From a distance she observed a bakery that was familiar to her and remembered that in front of it she had met Yamcha. For a moment she wondered what would have become of her, had she not crossed his path and was grateful to have known him. But those thoughts vanished quickly by recognizing her dark curled hair. She strained to see her come out and close the door, waving and smiling broadly as she retreated. It was her.

“Stop the carriage!” she shouted, still standing while the carriage was in motion.

Vegeta was startled to see her practically pass over him to reach the door, frantically repeating that they stop the vehicle. The driver, alerted, stopped almost in the middle of the street and called her when he saw her leave inadvertently. The count, stunned, left after her not without first inquiring what the hell was happening, but Bulma didn’t have time to stop to answer and ran to the bakery.

“Nathalie!” she shouted as she crossed the street.

The count observed the scene trying to decipher what was happening. Bulma had called that woman very familiarly, but Vegeta, just by looking at the style of her dress and the slanted neckline she wore, knew what kind of woman she was. Confused, he observed the effusive embrace of two friends who missed each other and could not imagine in what context the two of them could have been friends. Then Bulma took her face in her hands and with a clinical eye examined her face. Vegeta saw a soft blush brush across her face as Bulma stroked her hands. He blushed when he noticed the look that brunette was giving Bulma.

Of course, he was more than intrigued by the kind of relationship they both had. Especially when he saw her take her by the hand and drag her to the car with a demanding expression.

"I'm not going to let you go back there," she said vehemently.

“Bulma! You will get into a problem, I don’t want...” She was silent when she was standing in front of the count. She held her breath when she realized that this wasn’t the first time she had seen him, then she turned to Bulma with the words stuck in her throat, but she kept silent.

“Vegeta...” Bulma began, uncertainly. “I want you to hire her, she needs a job...”

He watched the bruised face of the woman Bulma held by the hand. She covered her blue eyes poorly with her hair and looked down slightly.

“I think I have more than enough employees.”

“Please! If you don’t... I quit, I'll go immediately to wherever. Give me the check and I'll go for my sister.”

“Right now that we already closed the deal with those imbeciles?” He questioned with some annoyance, but then he saw Nathalie again and with a snort continued. “Okay! We will find some use of you...”

Bulma's emotion was transmitted to Nathalie, who watched him carefully out of the corner of her eye. As she climbed into the carriage, Vegeta watched her again trying to find a piece of evidence that she wasn’t what he believed, but the more time he spent in front of her, the more obvious it was. The sweet scent of her perfume had as its sole purpose to cover other typical scents of her field of work. The exaggerated blush of her cheeks and the passionate red of her lips. Everything in Nathalie seemed typical of a night worker.

He was terribly intrigued by the relationship that the two apparently had, and hoped to have some time to inquire about it since, apparently, he would have to use her in his mansion to get her out of the brothel.Arriving at the mansion, Bulma took Nathalie enthusiastically to her room, but before she could enter she heard the count's firm voice.

“She will sleep in the service rooms, I'll see they prepare a bed for her.”Bulma smiled at him, still not realizing what the count was trying to avoid.

“I have to return, or I will be involved in a mess with Madame...” she blew out when she saw Bulma close the door.

“Nonsense! Vegeta agreed faster than I thought, you don’t have to go back there and nobody will come here to look for you here. But tell me, what happened to you?... Did a client hit you?”

She smiled bitterly, remembering the circumstances in which she had been involved since Bulma's departure.“I don’t want to make you feel guilty.”

“Did they do this to you for helping me escape!?”

“Apparently Madame had other plans for you, Bulma... you were consuming more than you were contributing to the brothel. And as they told me, several clients asked for a shift with you... it was a matter of time before they forced you to sleep with them. And I guess I ruined the business too. They had to punish me, but nobody likes to pay for beaten whores.”

“Don’t say that. Don’t ever call yourself like that again.”

“It's what I am, Bulma. I'm a whore.”

“Not anymore, you are an employee of this house. Here they will pay you well, you will eat well, you will dress well. I promise that while I'm here nothing bad will happen to you.”

Her gaze softened at Bulma’s sweetness and, with moist eyes, she smiled broadly at her. Then she closed her eyes and shook her head, as if trying to take a thought from her mind.

“You're impossible.”

“Vegeta is a good employer, at least he doesn’t mistreat his other employees.”

“Then he is the famous Vegeta, right?”

“Yes...” she sighed, “he is.”

“I imagined him taller... Tell me, did he apologize to you? Did he confess his love? Did he make you his? Explain me how you ended up here again.”

“It's something too long to explain, I had to come back here and he found me, but before I knew it I was taking care of him since apparently he went to blows with someone.”

"Then it's him..." Nathalie murmured.

“What do you mean?”

“When I saw him a while ago, I recognized him. Men like him don’t usually enter the brothel... The night you left, that man entered the brothel and went into a couple of rooms. Now that I think about it, he went into Maron's room and she looks a lot like you, although she's a little more... exuberant and dumb... To make it short, there was a big scandal, they took him out to blows. I saw him through the window on the first floor when he was riding a horse. I thought he would fall dead at any moment, apparently he is tougher than he looks...”

When she looked up she found Bulma's face with a heavy expression.

“Do you think he was there looking for me?”

“I don’t think so, I'm sure he was there for you.”

“Moron, he only makes things harder for me.”

“I thought you would be glad to know that he isn’t a complete bastard.”

“Of course not! It would be all so simple if he continued behaving like a cretin...”

Nathalie laughed and hugged her abdomen. Bulma couldn’t help but laugh when she heard her genuine laughter. They fell on the bed and she took advantage of the moment to tell her in detail what she had experienced after seeing her for the last time. Then she gave her the dresses she had used to work there and lent her her bathtub to clean up. Then they gossiped all night until the fatigue overcame them and Nathalie retired to the services quarters.

In the morning Bulma woke up with renewed vitality, even though it had been pouring raining since dawn. Suddenly she felt great enthusiasm for the day that awaited her and hadn’t had much time to think at all that Nathalie had told her. They spent the night talking about her project and how well she would live from now on. She hadn’t had the chance to tell her how she really felt being so close to the count.

That morning when she saw him at breakfast she felt that she was seeing him for the first time. He had gone after her that night, and by a grace of fate she was no longer there by the time he arrived. Finally, that gap in the story that she didn’t know had been filled and explained completely why she had found Vegeta in such deplorable conditions. After fighting with Black he had gone to the brothel for her and had barely escaped the beating they gave him. He had gone for her, and while Bulma thought about that when sharing breakfast with him, she wondered what was crossing his mind at that moment. If he had gone through the rooms, he was under the idea that she had become, without any further ado, into a prostitute. Maybe against her own will. It was curious for her to think about how he had come to such a conclusion, and how he had found her location with such certainty.

While she was meditating on all those possibilities, Vegeta asked himself similar questions. It was extremely unlikely that Bulma would develop a friendship with a prostitute when she was wealthy, and according to what she had told him about her previous jobs, she hadn’t had a good relationship with another maid. There was an older woman in Harris’s house, it couldn’t be Nathalie, or at least she had not mentioned her as fondly as she did now. In the next job she had run into a woman that had despised in the past and had even framed her with a robbery. It wasn’t possible for either of them to be Nathalie. And Bulma hadn’t mentioned a brothel or anything like it. Had she done it he would of course have remembered it.

“Thank you for hiring Nathalie, I know it was very hasty on my part... and I'm really grateful to you for what you did for her.”

“I did not say it wouldn’t have a price.”

Bulma smiled and looked into his eyes while holding her breath. The implications of his words often gave her an aphrodisiac effect and she ended up using all her strength to repress the terrible thoughts that crossed her mind. The count, of course, suffered from the same problem.

“You can pay her what you offered me.”

“It's a bit excessive, unless you want her to be my new valet.”

"No way," she said with such effusiveness that it embarrassed her. “I wouldn’t allow Nathalie such a humiliating job.”

“I don’t think she would have a problem preparing my bathroom.”

“Do you want Nathalie to bathe you?”

“Not particularly, but something makes me think that I wouldn’t be her first.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Do you think I'm an idiot? That I wouldn’t notice? Tell me, where did you meet a prostitute and why are you such good friends? It intrigues me,” he questioned as he outlined his fateful half smile.“I don’t want you to say that about her, she could hear you.”

“It's my house, what do I care if she hears me? You haven’t answer my question.”

“How do you know that?” she questioned uncomfortably, beset by terrible thoughts.Vegeta felt in Bulma's tone something new that he did not know, and he felt uneasy about the most accurate answers he could give her.

“I deduced it from her appearance.”

“I suppose you've seen many prostitutes in your life.”

“Do you really think I need to pay?” he mocked.

"I don’t know, Vegeta." And she did not know exactly why that idea mortified her in the depths. “I'm not interested either.”

Vegeta snorted with noticeable annoyance, set his napkin to one side and tried to relax.

“You do not have to be an avid consumer of brothels to realize what a woman's situation is. Cheap jewelry, cheap perfume, a blow to the face, breasts so tight and exhibited that...”

“I get it!... I understood the idea. God…”

“Having clarified that, I want you to answer my question and if you don’t tell me the truth, this is over.”

She observed the count's serious face when he told her those last words and knew that she would have to confess her stay in the brothel, however much she wanted to deny it. Vegeta had very quickly discovered Nathalie's trade and couldn’t deny that, if she didn’t have a strong affection for her, perhaps she would also have noticed her appearance. Bulma set down her cutlery and leaned back against her chair.

“I know her because I worked in a brothel with her.”

At the top of the table, Vegeta felt himself decompose for a brief moment, although he contracted his unfortunate gesture and made an incredible effort not to shout at her how stupid she was.

“When?” He questioned imagining her response.

“Little after the dance. She herself was the one who helped me get out of there before something bad happened to me.”

“That means you didn’t...”

“Of course not! Who do you think I am?!”

“You were in a brothel! What do you wan't me to think?!”

“I just cleaned and tended the beds!”

“Nothing else?”

“Nothing else…”

Bulma's embarrassed face became evident, and when he saw that she had been honest as he asked her, he thought it would be best to end the interrogation at that moment. He didn’t want to admit how much he would resent the idea of knowing that Bulma had had to sell her body to pay for a place to sleep, all because of the misunderstanding they had been involved in. He looked at her again, her mouth clenched and her brow furrowed, her cheeks flushed, and he wondered what she was feeling.

“Probably no one wanted to pay for a woman so lowdy and bad-tempered like you.”

“Are you crazy?! They were dying to have me!”

Vegeta laughed ironic and seeing him, she held her pale hands. He was insufferable! How dare he question how attractive she was?

A young employee entered the dining room and stopped, standing in the doorway and cleared her throat to be noticed.

“My Lord, sir Raditz has come to see you.”

"He is no sir," he said as he stood up and left the table.

Bulma watched him retreat and her indignation persisted. Vegeta couldn’t deny that she was beautiful, that she was attractive. Young, soft skin and above all, virgin! However, he left after making fun of her and she stood there, dazed, watching a plate full of fruits that had been left in the center of the table. She stood up and picked up a grape, spying on the count's way to the front door, which wasn’t too far away. She stretched when she saw the door open, after putting a bunch of grapes in her mouth, but she couldn’t see the man who had entered and she was indignant remembering Vegeta's mockery.

"You look good after having received not one, but two beatings," he said with a smile.

“Did you also find out about that?”

“I suppose it's more or less my job.”

“You would have been more useful to have been there.”

“Ey, if you had called for me gladly I would have sacrificed myself for a few blows, for a small fee, of course.”

“Of course...” the count said turning around, "let's go to my office.”

While Raditz followed him, his gaze passed lightly through the dining room and he looked at her, thoughtfully putting grapes in her mouth with a gesture of extreme annoyance. He smiled and the idea of changing that expression crossed his mind as an alternative. Intentionally diverted his route without Vegeta realizing it and walked to the dining room. Bulma had turned around while muttering things that he couldn’t reach to understand, although he was sincerely more focused on the soft curls that formed at the nape of her neck and fell fragile on her pristine neck. She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she only noticed the presence of that man when his shadow was projected on her and when she turned around she ran into the tallest man she had ever seen.

With a small purple grape between her hands and her mouth between open, she watched him lean over her and, while she watched him intimidated by his height, he took advantage of the moment to steal the grape and put it in his mouth. Then he smiled candidly with his hands in his pockets and decided to talk to her.

“If I had known that Vegeta had such beautiful employees, I would have come earlier for my salary.”

“Do you work for him?” Bulma asked, her voice hanging by a thread.

Without realizing she had blushed, this man was without a doubt the biggest she had ever seen. His appearance, in spite of being intimidating, was at the same time terribly attractive. His hair was pulled back in a careless ponytail and cascaded down the middle of his back. His white shirt was useless hiding his great musculature, especially by the way the fabric tensed on his arms.

“Something like that, and you? I hadn’t seen you before, I would have noticed you.”

She left her embarrassing trance when he took a second grape from the bunch and put it in his mouth without neglecting her sight. Bulma couldn’t be intimidated in that way by a stranger, no matter how attractive she seemed.

“Vegeta and I have a relationship more than partners that of employer and employee,” said straightening her back and raising her chin with the aim of not feeling so insultingly small at his side, but the task was impossible. He, despite his crude appearance and invasive personality, wasn’t going to break her. Bulma showed greater fortitude and vehemently controlled the flush of her white cheeks. Raditz smiled at the response of her and the tone of her voice. He looked at her from head to toe in an almost insinuating way and when he was about to continue he was interrupted.

“I thought I said to my office.”

The count waited on the other side and he was probably feeling more invaded than Bulma had felt in all that time. He watched in disbelief the way Raditz took another grape from the plate and swallowed it.

"I'm sorry, I got lost on the way," he replied with an indifferent air and saw Bulma's blue eyes again. “I'm very sorry, what kind of gentleman I am. My name is Raditz, what is yours?”

“I’m Bulma...”

Immediately he took her hand and placed a kiss on it. Vegeta watched the gesture in horror, but didn’t know exactly what to say to interrupt the tortuous courtship he was witnessing.

"Nice to meet you," he smiled at her in a manner similar to the count's. A smile tilted almost as malevolent as his and managed to bristle her skin.Despite his undeniable appeal, Bulma felt apprehensive to accede to his gallantries. Suddenly Vegeta's presence had become a clinical eye that she didn’t want to confuse, but while she was annoyed by what the count might think, she remembered the way he had made fun of her by saying that no man would pay to spend the night with her.

"Nice to meet you too, Raditz," she replied in a caramel tone and could almost feel the angry violence that had eroded on Vegeta.

“Have you finished with the presentations?” he questioned containing in his tone certain aggression.

"We could do more than introduce ourselves," Raditz continued.

"My office, now," said the count with arrogance.

Vegeta's angry glare was enough to dissuade Raditz's intentions, who immediately apologized to Bulma for retreating without neglecting his amused face. She saw him retreat through the doorframe while the count waited to make sure they didn’t exchange a word and seeing him far enough he continued.

“What do you think you're doing? Seducing my employee?”

“Seducing him?! Excuse me, I thought I was incapable of seducing anyone.”

Annoyed, he turned to go back to his office while Bulma chased him. Raditz had sat down in front of Vegeta's desk when they both entered arguing and he raised his eyebrows as he heard the exchange of words between them.

“If you don’t have anything to do, you could continue with your damn project.”

“You know I can’t continue until all the pieces are brought to me, what do you want me to do?”

"Do what you want, I do not care," he said, rummaging through his drawers.

The taller one was entertained and while listening to them he poured himself a glass of liquor. He waited while Vegeta lost his patience, stirring drawer after drawer and only to discover that he had used his last check several weeks ago.

“Dammit!” He blurted out and sat down at the desk, looked up and saw Bulma crossing her arms and apparently had no intention of leaving the office.

He felt his blood boil at the hidden form in which his employee watched her from top to bottom as he drank from his glass.

“Do you want to do something useful? Okay then, go to my father's office and bring me another checkbook,” he quickly ordered as he handed her a set of keys.

She saw the keys that were handed and then looked at him and frowned, about to refuse. If you don’t do it, I'll throw that friend of yours right away into the street right now.”

“You're a jerk!”

“I am! Go and tell your friend the groom to take you, he knows where it is. Don’t come back until you have that checkbook. It's in the first right drawer of the office desk.”

“All right!” she growled as she retreated by leaps and bounds.

Raditz raised his eyebrows and let out a soft laugh after seeing her retreat.

“You just had to tell me and I would have left her alone.”

“Tell you what exactly?”

“Nothing, forget it.”

When Bulma left the room, he suddenly felt calmer. The furtive eyes of his employee no longer harassed her and he didn’t have to explain his bad humor. But he well knew the reason, although it would take him an eternity to admit it.Bulma had left and was so dazed that she ended up demanding that Yamcha take her to the office Vegeta had mentioned. Despite the few steps she had to take to reach the stables, she had managed to soak almost completely. She took shelter for a moment under the stables and then boarded the carriage when Yamcha was ready. On the way her fury calmed, the sound of the rain had helped her stay calm. When the carriage stopped Bulma looked at the small three-story building and wondered when his father would have used that office so far from home and why. A few seconds passed until his friend opened the door for her and she ran out to protect herself from the rain against the building. A flash of lightning lit up the area and the rumble of a thunder shocked the horses. Bulma turned to see how Yamcha struggled to tame them.

“Need any help?” he said raising his voice above the sound of the rain.

“Just take care of the horses.”

She tried key by key until she found the right one, pushed the sturdy entrance door and was enveloped in the darkness of that room. Her first impulse was to open the curtains and in doing so she covered himself in dust. The gray sky failed to illuminate the interior of that room, but it was useful enough to let her see the way to the next doors. Bulma walked down a corridor and opened the first door she found, hoping it would be the right one, as for some reason the idea of climbing the stairs alone was scary. She sighed relieved to find a desk in the middle of that room and several libraries full of old books. Under the desk, found an ostentatious carpet that could not distinguish if it was red embroidered or black, due to the thick darkness that surrounded it. She walked to the desk and followed Vegeta's direction, first drawer on the right.While the count listened to the news that Raditz had with tremendous disinterest, he still thought of the discomfort that he felt because of the way in which the two of them had spoken. He looked at Raditz and inspected him and wondered if Bulma would be attracted to him. Vegeta knew that he had managed to seduce several wealthy women, they were his favorites. He had seen him look shamelessly at married women, noble women, without the slightest fear of reprisals that this could bring him, and that same impudence was what made him so attractive to them. Would Bulma be the same?

He looked down, still annoyed, and saw on the desk a small key that he was supposed to give Bulma to open the desk drawer. He gritted his teeth, he had an unfathomable desire to throw it across the room. He took the small key between his fingers and looked at it with rancor.

"I forgot to give her this damn key," he interrupted Raditz.

“If you want I can go and give it to her, I know where the office is.”

“You are kidding, right?”

“Of course I am,” he said while smiling at him.

“Well, what's the difference? I'll write you that check so you can get the fuck out of here, I have no desire to see your face.”

She pulled the drawer several times and then noticed the small slit it had, especially created for a key. It had to be somewhere, she told herself as she felt the dusty table with her hands but could only find one letter opener and a couple of dry inkwells. Her father used to have hiding places under the desk and she ran her fingers over the edges of the table without success. Then she turned to the shelves of the library hoping she had not gone there in vain. She stretched touching with the tips of her fingers all the spaces where a key could be hidden, slightly lit by the dim light coming from the window and the one that entered through the door of the office.

She heard footsteps approaching the corridor, slightly dimmed by the sound of the rain drops on the ceiling and the windows. She imagined that it was Yamcha who had come to help her since it had taken her a while to come back, surely he would have managed to tie the reins of the horses somewhere.

"I’m so glad you came, this place give the chills," she said, still facing the library, trying to find the key to the drawer.

“Did you tie the horses?”

The air became thick and strange when Yamcha didn’t answer her question and the steps had stopped by the door. Bulma remained motionless, she knew that something was wrong but an intense terror seized her body and she didn’t find the courage to turn around immediately.

“Yamcha?” she asked in a trembling voice.

A lightning bolt illuminated the room. Bulma saw the books in front of her and terror suddenly embraced her. She swallowed and glanced over her shoulder at the person who had entered the office, listening to the squeak of the door closing.

"I did not want to get to this..." Black said as he approached with sinister slowness. Bulma clung to a thick book and waited while the distance between them was shortened, "but you left me no choice."

He did not take long to subdue her. The book she had taken with the intention of hitting him fell to the floor and her wrists were at the Baron’s mercy. Bulma screamed loudly, but he managed to throw her on the desk in one quick movement and get on top of her. Her cheek pressed hard against the wood and her heart began to pound, watching the door through which Black had entered. She thought that at that moment Yamcha would have left the horses to help her and at any moment he would open that same door with urgency to rescue her.She felt Black's chest against her back, holding her hands without leniency. An intense, irreproducible chill ran through her body. She opened her eyes in horror when she felt that he was beginning to separate her legs with his. She writhed with all the strength of her body, falling into account of what was really happening. She closed her eyes and imagined Vegeta coming to rescue her, but when she opened them the door remained closed.

Black's wet breath brushed her ear, she could immediately sense the stench of alcohol and a tear slipped from her eyes and wet her cheek.

"I hope I have to do this once," he said awkwardly. "I do not think you want to have a child being a single woman. Poor, orphan, pregnant and alone...”

"Please ..." she said in a heartbreaking plea she never thought she could utter.

“You must have thought about it before humiliating me, you and all those imbeciles who have done nothing but ruin my life. Stupid woman, you and my stupid father...”

He got up and relieved the weight that Bulma felt on her body, but the horror didn’t stop as he soon to tear the fabric of her dress on her back. The cold air caressed violently the now naked skin. The sound of the shattering fabric flooded the room, dulled by the thunder of the storm.

"No ..." he said with a twisted expression. “I want to see your face while I do it.”

With violence he turned her on the table and broke her neckline. She held her breath, prey to the terrible horror she was experiencing. She tried to hit him but every attempt was either stopped or didn’t affect him in the least.

"Help!" she shouted, but her cries went out when the baron covered her mouth tightly, pressing her lips without clemency. Bulma watched as he reached for her underpants and she began to deny loudly as she cried uncontrollably. She couldn’t close her legs, or scream, or get rid of him. She couldn’t fight against his strength and she had only  hope that by fate of destiny someone would enter through that door and take her out of that hell. Bulma kicked, but there was no resistance to oppose and she felt herself dying in life when he tore her underwear.

“You missed your chance to willingly do this.”

Bulma looked at Black's unseemly eyes and felt terribly impotent. Her tears had soaked her neck and the hair that curled gently over her ears. Her body began to tremble with terror as she realized that it wasn’t long before the horror materialized. Black's monstrous strength had managed to break her almost completely, and when she observed him adjusting to tear down her virtue, she felt the need to continue fighting with the last strength she had left. She tried to crawl on the table to get away, but he took her by the leg and brought her to his body without contemplation. Bulma felt with the tips of her fingers a small metal object and realized immediately that it was the letter opener. Trembling, she took it awkwardly with the clear intention of attacking him, but when she bent over him to cut his throat he went away and only managed to stab him in the chest.Back's hideous face was terribly affected by what she had done. Bulma's lips trembled at the fact that she had failed to kill him and feared the infamous intentions the baron would have with her. He looked at the letter opener stuck in his chest and with disgust watched her half naked under his body. Black's hands reached her neck with extreme speed and surrounded it completely. Bulma felt the pressure and suffocation immediately. She looked with a faint hint of hope at the door, and begged Vegeta to appear. She even imagined him going there, but one last tear slipped away when she realized that no one could rescue her.Her face began to ache, the blood piled up. She was going to die.She would die in that room…

In an instant everything that had happened appeared before her, and above all the promises that had been made to recover everything in a world that had not been created for her. She looked at the repudiation in Black's eyes, the same repudiation she had seen in so many others before him and realized that she would have to save her own life. She withdrew her hands from those holding her neck and took the letter opener again to twist it inside Black’s chest. An incomparable satisfaction ran through her when she saw the startled eyes of the baron and decided to use her last strength to push that small object deep into his chest. Suddenly his gaze went wild and Bulma felt her naked body wet. Black's hands let go and from his lips came an arch, an incomprehensible cry. For a moment she thought he was trying to curse her, but there was no air inside him and his lips opened without saying a word. Bulma pushed harder until her hands felt soaked. Her cheek dampened, as a stream of blood dripped from the baron's mouth. His troubled look soon began to look pale. He put a hand to his chest trying to contain the bleeding, but Bulma didn’t let go of her weapon. It was already too late.

Black's knees gave up and he fell full on her body and gave his last breath, while his hand tried to reach her face again. A second later his body stopped moving and she, under him, was completely paralyzed. Suddenly she understood what she had not thought until then, she was soaked with Black's blood.

She had murdered him, Bulma had killed Black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never know exactly what to put in the author's notes, this chapter is my favorite at this point in history despite the last scene. I hope I have translated it well and have not affected any reader with the story as it is a very sensitive topic that should not be written lightly. Even though this is a fanfic, this kind of thing happens more often than we think, to any of us, at any time, and that makes me feel very bad. I hope I have written it well and that you have not found it to be of bad taste. Thank you very much to all who read this story, to those who leave comments and to those who have gone ahead looking for my fic in Spanish. Thank you very much and I'll see you in the next one (which is also one of my favorites). <3  
> ALSO! If you are interested you can check my VegetaxBulma fanarts at @romilemondraws on Instagram. Thanks!


	18. Chapter XVIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is by far one of my favourite chapters, I hope you like it as well.

* * *

** IN YOUR HANDS **

* * *

 

**Chapter**

-XVIII-

* * *

 

The groom held the horses’s reins tightly. The thunder and lightning hadn’t stopped and neither did the animal’s fear. Vegeta looked proudly at his steed, his name was no more than the epitome of the tempestuous weather. Raditz had tethered the reins of his horse close to the entrance and was behind him, both soaked with rainwater.

After leaving he regretted his decision, checking the inclemency of the rain. Once he verified that Bulma wasn’t inside the carriage, but inside the building, he turned and saw the office in which his father had spent most of his life. He didn’t want to think about it, but the question formed in his mind irremediably: What would he have there that he didn’t find in his own mansion?

He completely erased that thought from his mind and walked firmly to the door. Just by pushing it he saw that Bulma had left it open, but when a flash of lightning illuminated the room completely for a brief moment, Vegeta saw something that left him uneasy.

Bulma's light wet steps on the wooden floor had been almost completely erased by larger ones. Vegeta looked at the size and shape of those footsteps, realizing that those shoes were like his own. He turned over on door frame and looked at Yamcha, hoping that he was the owner of those marks, but it wouldn’t make sense that Bulma had been left alone in the office, even more so when he saw the erratic behavior of the horses.

He held his breath as he walked, following the trail of footsteps that ended in front of the closed door of his father's office. Vegeta took the doorknob and gulped. An inclement sensation rushed down his throat, a cloudy foreboding, something akin to fear.

The door creaked when he pushed it with the tips of his fingers after turning the knob. The image felt like a stab and he gasped when he saw the blood being stirred on the desk. A small bloody lagoon fell on his foot and when he looked down he found the old red carpet of the office soaked with blood. He heard the air come out of Raditz's mouth, besides him, watching it with the same surprise as him, but not an ounce of the terror that invaded Vegeta.

Vegeta had never felt so shattered as in at the moment, being a spectator of such a terrible scene.Raditz's hand took him by the shoulder. He was inert, immobile and silent.

"You don’t have to go in there," he said in a calm tone, thinking they knew who was lying in there.

“No...” he answered in a sigh.

He stepped forward and dipped his shoe into the puddle that had flooded the room with an intense stench of iron. From just entering and breathing he felt his stomach begin to stir and something inside him trembled, contemplating the idea that that blood was hers. He noticed a lump behind the desk and his heart collapsed. A tear fell over his pupil and suddenly the air inside the room vanished. There was nothing in his mind but an intense denial as he walked slowly to discover that silent corpse. He didn’t have the courage to blink at all, disturbed by what he was sure he would find there. And, as he turned around on the desk, he realized that what was there waiting for him was Black's inert body.He heard a very slight sob over the opposite corner of the room. Vegeta turned and watched her, her dress torn, covering her chest with great difficulty with her arms and hiding her face in her hands.

She was alive.

The count's heart beat again and before he knew it he had already removed his jacket to cover her and had crouched down beside her, but Bulma looked at him in panic and crawled into the corner begging him not to hurt her. He took her by the shoulders and saw the horror reflected in her clear eyes.

“Calm down, I'm here. You're fine, you'll be fine.”

Bulma trembled like a leaf, her body felt wet. Vegeta looked at the burgundy stain on her cheek and realized she was covered almost entirely with blood.His hands also trembled as he held her frozen body, trying to determine if that blood came from Bulma's or Black's body, but it was impossible to tell in the darkness.

Raditz entered the room while Vegeta tried to soothe Bulma's sobs. Upon discovering Black's corpse, he recognized him immediately and squatted down in front of him. He grabbed his shoulder and turned his limp body over his back to discover the improvised dagger in the middle of his chest. The blood still spilled, blackening his clothes almost completely. Raditz noticed that his trousers were unbuttoned and turned around to see the deplorable state of Bulma with discomfort.

"He's dead," he said to Vegeta, and the silence was interrupted only by the woman's wailing at his side. “What do you plan to do now?”

Tears continued to flow uncontrollably from her face and, after realizing that it was the count who was telling her to calm down, she threw herself into his embrace and pressed him hard against her while crying bitterly. Vegeta hold her in his arms, still incredulous of what was happening and noticing what had happened there before he arrived.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, fearing that Black had outraged her before she managed to end his life, but Bulma couldn’t formulate a word.

“Vegeta, we have to act fast. Tell me what you want to do.”

“I don’t know!” he shouted even with Bulma clinging to him. “Bulma, listen to me...” he said separating her gently from his torso, looking her in the eyes with urgency. “Bulma, was Black alone?”

“Y-Yes... he came in here while I was looking for the key and...”

“Okay, he was alone then. Nobody saw you kill him...”

"This is a mess, he is a damned noble and he has business with half the city," added Raditz, standing up.

“What do you imply? That I will be imprison for killing him? He tried to kill me first!”

“But you're an employee, people like you and me are not worth the same as them.”

"Besides, he's responsible for your family’s ruin..." snapped Vegeta.

“Are you doubting me?” Bulma questioned the count with horror.

“No, I’m not… I'm telling you what they will argue against you if we go to the police and you confess that you killed him.”

"Then what? He can come here, do what he likes with me and leave? Is there no justice for me?”

"It's very likely that there’s not," Raditz replied while Vegeta thought about what they should do.

The count knew that Raditz was right, even if it had been an act in self-defense, Black's noble title and the whole web of relationships he had woven over the years would immediately fall on Bulma. The very idea of her being locked up for murdering a noble made him sick, if only he had arrived a few minutes earlier maybe he would be the one to carry that weight instead of her.

"Help me raise the desk," he said to Raditz as he got up. “We'll wrap it in the carpet and see what we do with it.”

“And the groom? If we keep taking so long he could enter at any moment.”

“You are right, go and tell him to take your horse to the mansion. Tell him we're going to buy something and we need the carriage.”

“Okay.”

Bulma watched in disbelief at the plan they worked in front of her. Even wrapped in Vegeta's jacket, she stayed on the floor while Raditz went out to speak with Yamcha so calmly that managed to disturb her. The count began to roll up his sleeves when she realized that they would actually get rid of Black's body.

“You have to believe me, I didn’t want to kill him...” she said distressed.

Vegeta ducked again next to her and looked into her eyes.

"I believe you," he said, stroking her neck. “But I also believe that you will go to jail for this and I’m not going to allow it. Now I want you to listen to me carefully, if we are going to do this; we have to do it right and for that I need your help. I would do it alone but we don’t have time to waste before that wood begins to soak the blood. Do you understand me?”

“Yes...”

“All right…”

Raditz entered again, but before doing so he locked the door and closed the curtains. They were barely illuminated by the light coming through the office window.

“There’s a back door, I left the carriage over there.”

The count nodded and, with the taller one, removed the desk to the side. As she watched, Bulma wondered what kind of relationship he would have with Raditz so that he would behave so diligently about what was going on. Once the desk was off the carpet, both approached Black's body and Vegeta knelt in front of him and removed the letter opener from his chest. While the sharp weapon dripped the thick black drops of blood, the count took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped it to leave it aside.

"He gave him right in the aorta," the taller one mentioned. “He must have died in a matter of seconds.”"Lift him by the feet..." the count said, lifting Black from his back.

Bulma was speechless as the baron's body was wrapped in the carpet and, as if it were a bundle of potatoes, Raditz lifted him off the ground and carried him on his shoulder. Blood dripped in a trail to the back door and Bulma thought of how grateful she was that it was raining. That will probably clean the blood that runs off on the sidewalk. She was mortified, and at times it felt that everything was happening in slow motion. She was no more than a mere spectator of her own crime.

Vegeta wiped his hands and when he was about to leave the room, she called his name urgently. The count turned around holding the door between his hands and looked at her over his shoulder.

“Don’t leave me alone…”

He wanted to wake her up from the trauma that was collapsing her and make her understand the real danger they were getting into. But at the same time, from just seeing her, with her dress torn to pieces, her face and a large part of her body covered with blood, he knew he would be asking too much from her. Then he did something, a gesture he had never had with another woman outside of an event in which he was expected to do so. Vegeta held out his hand to Bulma.

"Come with me," he said and stretched out to her.

Bulma saw his gesture, feeling that by doing so they would be sealing a silent pact. As of this moment they were accomplices.She took his hand unceremoniously and got up, still covered by the cloak of his jacket.“Where are we going?” she asked as they climbed the stairs.

“We need to clean the office, take all the sheets you find. Then we will go to the kitchen and we will take anything we can use. I need you to help me clean up all that blood.”

She could barely breathe and heard his words as a slight echo, as if she were living a dream she could not wake up from. When they reached the first room he opened the only piece of furniture it had and took the abandoned sheet set that was there and handed it to her. In doing so, Vegeta saw with indignation the way in which she struggled to stay covered considering the state of her dress. He looked up at the wardrobe and found an old shirt hanging on a hanger. He withdrew it and turned to her. His worried eyes met the celestial ones of her and saw in its reflection a world of horrors.

"You would move freely if you put this on..." he said with the hanger in one hand.Bulma looked at the shirt and knew without a doubt that he was right. All her decorum had been lost long ago and the fact that Vegeta or Raditz saw her bare legs would be the least of her ailments at that moment. She laid the sheets on the bed and took the shirt in her hands.

“Would you turn around, please?”

He nodded, and when he turned around he heard the cloth gliding on the ground and closed his eyes trying to think about his next steps. He had to be extremely careful if he wanted to do this well.

“You can turn now,” she said embarrassed.Vegeta tried to be as respectful as possible under the circumstances, but his distressed look and the way she hugged herself under the shirt was charming.

When she saw him approach her and take her hand she blushed. But when she saw him in her eyes she realized that he wasn’t looking at her but at the sleeves of his shirt. Without asking, he began to wrap the hem with the idea of preventing her to  drag them along.

“They’ll stained with blood...” he said urgently and then continued with the other sleve. “Hurry, we don’t have much time. We have to go back to the mansion as soon as posible.

They quickly gathered all the sheets they found and went down to the first floor where they found a couple of oil lamps and Vegeta lit them in an instant. Once in the kitchen they opened all the shelves and Bulma took a metal bucket that they could use to squeeze the blood from the sheets. Mortified by her own thoughts, she stopped and looked at Vegeta who checked the contents of some bottles he had found. She looked at him askance, he hadn’t hesitated for a moment about what they were doing and remembered the words he had said before.

_“But I also believe that you will go to jail for this and I’m not going to allow it."_

"So, we're really doing this..." she said softly, her eyes caught in the bucket she held in her hands.

Vegeta looked at her, feeling how distressed she was, but there was no more time for his contemplations.

“If you want to face a jury and try your luck, say it now, because I'm not going to put my skin in play for this if you're not sure.”

Their eyes met. The count seemed unwavering, even after the atrocity he had seen and had taken part in. Bulma knew deep down that he was right, she wasn’t noble until they gave her a title when she married, because she was worth less than any man. She was simply a second-class citizen, third, if she took into account that she was a woman. Her look became stern. Bulma Briefs would not go to jail for ending up with a specimen as despicable as Black, and if Vegeta held out his hand to get her out unscathed, she would take it one more time.

“We are doing it.”

Upon returning to Vegeta's father's office, Raditz was waiting for them. Vegeta gave him one of the lamps he had found and went to him.

“Get rid of him. Then I want you to come back, bring a cloak, something big. We need to cover Bulma to return to the mansion without anyone noticing her appearance. When you come back; we will have cleaned all this and you will take the sheets too.”

Raditz withdrew, but not before glancing at Bulma's snowy legs. She turned her face, but at the same time felt an irremediable desire to hit him for just daring to look at her that way. But she could not afford to lose one of her accomplices. Once alone, Vegeta closed the curtains and looked at Bulma again. The meeting of his eyes lasted a few seconds and then both crouched down to begin their work. Her bare knees stained blood immediately, but she pretended not to notice. Vegeta felt slightly relieved to be wearing black pants, but it was inevitable for him to stain his shirt with the blood that was splashed on them when cleaning. After absorbing the most blood with the sheets, Bulma began to drain it on the bucket until her knuckles burned.

"It's already full..." she said to Vegeta once the bucket was full of blood.

“We should throw it in the toilet...”

Both tried not to be affected by the dreary topic of conversation. Bulma remained calm and lifted the bucket. Before he could say anything, the young woman turned to see him before leaving the hall.

“Don't worry, I can do it.”

The count faced his face to the ground, still dripping with blood in such a way that it seemed interminable. The faint flame inside the lamp poorly illuminated the room and he feared that in the full light of the day some part of it would have been overlooked. He knew that he would have to return in the morning with another carpet to replace the one that had been lost. He threw salt on the wood, hoping it would absorb the blood so it would be easier to sweep it away later. After throwing a considerable amount he sat down against the wall and waited until Bulma came back inside and immediately returned to drain the sheets.

Sweat beaded his forehead and beneath his brows gathered and frowned slightly. His expression was far from the petrified one he had when he found her. At that moment, as he breathed tired and watched her work, he realized the terrible pain that had stalked him when he thought her to be dead.

Why? He asked himself. Why had he felt so defeated? So empty and alone within his own body. As he remembered that instant; he knew it had been eternal, but it had probably been a couple of seconds. Vegeta returned to that moment and gulped, thinking that the bulge he had seen on entering could well have been her, if that letter opener hadn’t been on the table to help her. Maybe even having given her the key at first, Black couldn’t have reached her, maybe she had delayed looking for a way to open the drawer since he had told her not to return without the checkbook. Or maybe not.

He imagined that Black would have been following her for quite some time, given what Bulma had told him about what happened when she left the library. If so, he would have caught her whether or not she had the damn key in her possession. He would have raped her and, knowing Bulma as he did, she would have resisted until the last breath, just as she had. If the cards hadn’t been in her favor, Black would have killed her. Yamcha would go in later to find her outraged and lifeless. Alone, in that same building in a state of abandonment. And he would come some time later to find her on the floor in pieces thanks to that man.And then he would have killed him himself.

He wished he was alive to do it and take that grief out of her. He looked at his hands, stained with his blood and wished to wrap them around his neck and feel under his fingernails the last beat of his heart, for having dared to touch her.At that moment Vegeta realized something that he didn’t have the strength or the words to say. He had never felt this way with any other woman and his actions were speaking louder than any word he could think of. He was not only helping her, Vegeta was confessing feelings that he didn’t understand.

When the salt was inflated from that thick liquid, he used a brush to lift it and took it to the sink, hoping that the water would dislodge the salt and blood accordingly. Then, Bulma picked up a brush and knelt one last time. She brushed the floor with the soapy strands and scratched the surface again and again until her arms ached, and even after that she continued. In the end, all that remained was to turn over the desk and clean it as quickly as possible. Surely Raditz would be arriving soon and they had to leave everything relatively presentable before leaving.

When he knocked on the back door they knew it was him, and fortunately they were finished. They gathered all the sheets and left them by the door and when they opened it, they discovered that the storm wasn’t over yet.

"You look like crap," Raditz said to them and extended a dark cloak to Bulma.

“I hope this can help you. I don’t use it, you can keep it if you want.”

He winked at her after giving her the cloak and the gesture didn’t go unnoticed, neither for Bulma nor for Vegeta. But both determined that they had more important things to do than to take charge of educating the rogue who was helping them.

They gave one last glance at the office and even without the carpet it looked quite normal. Although they agreed that it would be best to come back in the morning and review everything, once again, to be sure. While Raditz and the count talked about the place where they had disposed of him, Bulma put on her cloak and took the letters opener in her hands once more. That was the weapon that had ended Black's life. She held it tightly and a flash returned to her to mortify her once more. She felt her clothes breaking again and she trembled under the cloak. She decided to put it in her pocket before leaving.

Raditz also took Bulma's dress and told them that he would take everything to a distant place where he would set it on fire so that there was no trace of what had happened that night. As if everything Black had done to her was erased like that, so simply.

The count said goodbye to Raditz, who left in the carriage. Bulma and Vegeta came out the front door where Storm waited patiently, who seemed unperturbed by the grim sounds that hit the night sky.

"It's time to go," the count told Bulma as he untied the reins of his horse.

Before leaving he looked her in the eyes and realized something that he had overlooked in the midst of so much horror. He raised his hand and took her face gently as the rain bathed her. She still had a blood stain on her cheek, the one that had sprouted from Black's lips when he died. With his thumb he stroked it to erase it and then inspected her for more evidence of the crime. Bulma waited with her heart pounding furiously inside her chest, ignited by the warmth of his hands. She nodded when he finished, and grabbed her by the waist to climb her onto Storm's back. Then he climbed up behind her and took the reins, enclosing her in his arms.

On the way she lay on his chest, overcome by the feelings she had towards him that she felt she could no longer hide from him. He was rescuing her, in a way that surely no other could.

He immediately felt the way she snuggled over his chest and looked at her from the corner of his eye. Both soaked with rain and blood, fleeing from the crime that united them. But he had a choking sensation. The idea that this was not over followed him until he reached the mansion.

Once inside, an employee received them and tried to take their coats, but Vegeta raised a hand and stopped her.

“It won’t be necessary.”

“Yes, my Lord...”

Surprised but diligent, she left and left them alone at the entrance.

"You're covered in blood under that shirt..." he said in a very low tone.

“I know... I have to take a bath, but I'm exhausted.”

"I'll start the fire in the bathroom of my room," he said as if it were an order to bathe there, but Bulma didn’t refuse.

Both climbed the stairs and as he had said, the count lit the fire inside his private bathroom. Seeing him fill the first bucket, she approached him and touched him gently on the shoulder. Bulma wanted to tell him that it wasn’t necessary, that he had already done more than enough, but she could barely lift her own arms after everything that had happened. Fighting Black had consumed her more than she expected, and she could barely stand on her feet after having cleaning almost all of that room on her knees.

"Thanks," she said instead.

The count did not answer and continued loading bucket after bucket until the bathtub was full of steaming hot water. After the last bucket he stopped without knowing exactly how to say what he was thinking.

“If you want, I can...”

“Don’t!” she hurried. “It’s not necessary... I can, really.”

He nodded and left, but waited silently behind the door. After seeing him leave Bulma remembered she have bathed him, even offered to help him when he was wounded and perhaps it wouldn’t have been any harm to accept his offer. However, she still had a bit of modesty and simply couldn’t accept that offer.

She removed the cloak and dropped it to the ground. Then she took off her shoes that at first glance looked normal, but were smeared with blood. She looked at herself, illuminated by the burning flames of the fireplace and thought that that shirt might have belonged to Vegeta's father. It was quite large, even a little more than the count's. Apparently, his father was taller than him.

Delicately she unbuttoned the buttons one by one and the shirt fell to the floor along with the cape and her shoes. Bulma looked at her hands and saw the blood accumulated under her nails. There was dried blood on her breasts and on her abdomen, on her knees and legs. She turned trying to see her back, but to no avail.

She submerged one foot and then the other. Vegeta heard the water stir under her as she sat down. The mansion was submerged in the most intimate of silences. He was also exhausted, several hours had passed since they had left and the winter that was rushing over the region had left the city in dark. Without thinking he sat on the door with the sole intention of listening to her and making sure she was okay. Thinking of all the spaces in her body that would be covered in blood and if all the blood she would be cleaning would be from him and not her.

There was still something that she hadn’t answered and intrigued him greatly, although he didn’t know if he really wanted to know. He rested his head tiredly on the wood behind his back and heard the water trickle into the tub.

Bulma brushed with the little strength that had left between her skin and her nails. She felt so dirty that she was sure that the bath wouldn’t help her to cleanse the sensation that Black had left on her skin. She scratched her arms until the blood drained and the skin began to flush. A moan was heard when she tried to wipe her shoulders and Bulma discovered bruises that she didn’t have before leaving.

Vegeta sharpened his ears and tensed when he heard her, she was hurt, she was sure of it.  
Immediately he stopped and opened the door. Bulma covered her chest quickly and nervous yelled at him, demanding an explanation, but the count closed the door and walked to her, snatching the brush from her hand. Then he took a bench and sat behind her.

“I'm not going to sit down to listen to your moans, you have to get rid of this as soon as possible.”

She hunched over her knees and watched him warily with her back to him, but she didn’t have the courage to throw him out. She wanted him there. She needed him with her.

The count gazed at the turbulent water and over to Bulma's back. The snowy skin smeared with sticky burgundy from her neck caused a stitch in his guts. He took off his jacket and threw it next to her clothes to roll up his sleeves again. Then he moistened the brush and carved her back in silence. The question that had crossed his mind ache in the middle of his chest, clamoring to emerge from his lips and make itself present to get an answer. He needed to know, he wanted to know.

“Did he... hurt you?”

His words hovered in Bulma's mind for a few seconds. Silence interrupted by the clicks of the fire and the water rocking inside the bathtub. She remembered the attack, that now was quite confusing, she didn’t remember completely what had happened.

"He tried to suffocate me..." she said softly.

He gritted his teeth at her response, not knowing exactly what bothered him the most.

"I mean, did he..."

The exact word didn’t go through his throat. The horrific act he had in mind had no place on his lips when he was referring to her and he couldn’t understand exactly why, but he couldn’t say it. Even so, he hoped that she could understand what he was talking about. Because if it was like that...

“I can bring my family’s doctor to check on you and prevent something if he...”

“No... he was about to do it, but no. He didn’t rape me.”

Vegeta let out a sigh and closed his eyes. And although she turned her back to him, her wet skin caught the air that came from his lips. She smiled slightly at his relief. Then she lowered her chin and held her hair so that he could clean it, but he froze when he saw the marks of Black’s fingers that began to appear on his skin. Suddenly, an image began to be drawn in his mind about everything that had happened to Bulma in those minutes and returned to invade him with fury. He wanted him to be alive so he could kill him, but he kept those thoughts to himself and cleaned her neck and shoulders without saying anything. When he finished, he stood up and took a towel. He stood in front of the tub and Bulma looked up with a face wrapped in modesty.

“Don’t worry, I'm not going to look.”

By the end of the day, Bulma had learned to trust him and that's why, although that would be the first time she was completely naked in front of a man, she stood up without an inch of doubt in her heart. The water fell from her body to the floor, while she put one foot out of the tub and the count wrapped it inside the towel. Then she turned and her impetus heart hunch to have him so close to her. The fear that had plagued her the last weeks dissipated almost completely as she saw his lips parted with the only desire to kiss him and be his. Vegeta looked at her with the same anxiety, his body throbbing with incomparable intensity to have her in front of him completely naked, being that the only thing that separated his body from hers was that simple piece of cloth. However, after all that had happened that night, he knew he couldn’t take advantage of her vulnerability.

“Get some rest...” he said and gulmped.

"You too ..." she answered with slight bitterness.

He watched her leave the room after taking her shoes, leaving the trail of her wet feet behind her. The count fell back against the wall with bitterness. Maybe he had never wanted her that much, but he could not take her right then and take advantage of her weakness. He would do it eventually, when she regained her strength and returned little by little to being the Bulma he knew and not that frightened woman Black had left him.She put on her nightwear and felt strange. How could such a normality exist after killing a man? She went to bed and tried to sleep, removing from her mind what had happened, but there were many doubts inside her. She had killed him. Yes, she had defended herself against a vicious attack and, nevertheless, he still felt that she had to defend herself against the accusations that her mind made. Maybe she had killed him because she always wanted to do it. After losing everything she appreciated in her life, there was no other responsible in her thoughts but him. Not even the poor judgment of his father when he administered himself, or the careless manner in which her mother had squandered much of his fortune. Always, in her eyes, there was no other culprit but Black.

In the morning she got up early and cleaned her shoes. When she saw herself in the mirror, she noticed the marks of her neck and put makeup all over it with rigor until they became invisible. Even so, she dressed in one of her high-collared suits and went down the stairs. Vegeta was already awake, although he looked like he hadn’t slept all night, just like she did. Raditz arrived shortly thereafter and they left without her once more, and although he did not say anything to her, she knew where they were going.

The afternoon passed like any other, strangely. And although she wanted to get distracted by reading a book there was no case, nothing managed to get Black out of her thoughts. It was already dark by the time someone knocked on the door and Bulma was there, in the hall with a book in her hand, waiting for the count's arrival. When he opened the door, she was surprised to find Milk there. An enormous torment was transmitted in her face. Her swollen eyes, like hers, were those of a woman who had spent hours crying.

"They took him!" she said hastily, entering the mansion.

Bulma closed the door and took her coat, confused. She did not understand any of the words that piled up from her mouth. Milk was hysterical.

“What happened? I don’t understand what are you talking about…”

“Goku, they took him! The police arrived and accused him of having done something to his brother. The notary denounced him, but my Goku wouldn’t be able to do something like that.”

“Wait, sit down. Calm down and explain me what happend.”

“They took Goku!” she repeated as she began to cry. “A couple of days ago they finally signed the last papers, Goku's father recognized him as his son. He and Black had a discussion in the studio, he was saying that all Goku wanted was his fortune and his titles. But he doesn’t care about any of that! This morning the police went to look for him, they said that they were going to interrogate him about the disappearance of the baron. But Goku has nothing to do with it! He is innocent!”

Bulma watched the way Milk trembled and quickly went out to make two cups of tea. While pouring the water over the cups her heart stopped. She never imagined that her actions could reach Milk in that way and, a portion of her, at the same time, was somewhat relieved that it wasn’t her they had gone to look for.

When she came back she tried to reassure her, but her sobs were uncontrollable.

“Try to calm down, please. Do it for the son you carry...”

“How could I raise my son alone?”

“It's just an interrogation, Milk. I am sure that once he declared everything they’ll let him go.”

“Are you sure?”

She wanted to be, otherwise Black's disappearance would turn into a witch hunt she feared she would be a part of it.

“I'm sure…”

Before leaving, Milk hugged Bulma. That secret she had told only to her bound them together and at the same time filled Bulma with remorse. Soon after Vegeta arrived and she was still waiting by the window. Upon entering the mansion he saw the despair in Bulma's eyes who hadn’t even noticed that Raditz was next to the count.

“The police have Goku, Milk's lover.”

“What?”

"She told me that they were going to question him about the disappearance of the baron, apparently the notary who carried out Goku’s recognition as the legitimate heir of his father, he denounced him for an altercation they had. He said he would surely be involved.”

"It's perfect," Vegeta said without hesitation.

"No, it's not," Raditz said, and there was a certain resentment in his tone that they had never heard before. “If I had known that all this would end with my brother in prison I would never agreed.”

“Your brother?” Bulma questioned.

"Half brother," he said, "so you better get him out of this or I'll put you both in that prison hole myself.”

The count was ready to begin an argument, when several carriages and horses stopped in front of the mansion. The trio looked out the window as the authorities crossed the front garden to get to the door and Bulma ran out of air. They had discovered it, everything was over. Finally, she would end up imprisoned for what she had done and there would be no justice for what had been done to her. It was unheard of, it was unfair!  
Vegeta watched with exasperation what was happening and quickly took Bulma by the shoulders when seeing her prey of the fear.

“Don't say anything, we'll find a lawyer. Don’t say a word until we get there.”

There was nothing but silence on the girl's lips. Her heart stopped when the loud blow of the officers was heard over the door. Bulma tried to keep her face serene and avoid falling prey to her own nerves. The count kept composure when he took the knob and opened to receive them. Raditz waited silently beside her.

“Count Ouji, we must take you to the police station to take you statement.”

Bulma felt a pain in her chest upon hearing those words. Vegeta? They were there to take him?

“What is it about officer?”

“You will be given that information at the police station, please join us.”

The count turned to Bulma for the last time before leaving.

“Find Tarble and do what I told you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love cliff hangers <3


	19. Chapter XIX

* * *

** IN YOUR HANDS **

* * *

 

**Chapter**

-XIX-

* * *

 

When she saw him come out of the door her stomach turned over. Incredulous, she opened the curtain and watched him for the last time, he looked at her in fleeting glance. His appearance was serene despite what was happening. He had the same resolute and unwavering gaze that characterized him, despite the imminent danger in which he was involved. But she was scared, besieged by thousands of terrible ideas and results that could come after this.

She had been so horrified by the events of the last few hours that had thought little about him. Yes, she had thought about how comforted he felt for his help and presence. She was even happy to feel him so close, but she had not yet truly realized the danger in which he had placed him when accepting his help.

Vegeta had dragged her from the darkness into which she had submerged without asking anything in return, until that moment.

“We have to go and get Tarble.”

Raditz listened to her words, but sensed that they were not addressed to him. Bulma spoke to herself as she quickly reached for her purse to go after the count, but he held her back by the arm. Bulma turned around, the man's face was stern. She knew perfectly well that he had become a risk at the same moment in which he revealed that this Goku was his brother. But she couldn’t allow herself to be thrown into the mud, she and Vegeta. She had to protect herself and him, no matter what or who got in the way.

“If I had known that my brother would end up involved in this, I would never have agreed to help you.”

"I remind you that you are an accomplice, not a mere witness," Bulma said determinedly and shook off Raditz's grip.

“What I did doesn’t compare to what you did.”

“I know, but before you start spitting everything out like a coward it will be better to go to Tarble and see what is happening at the police station. I'm sure Vegeta can offer you the amount of money you want as long as you keep your mouth shut.”

He laughed mocking her and crossed his arms.

“Money? Do you think I'll let my brother rot in a cell for a crime you committed? Vegeta told me about you, he told me that you used to have even more money than him and look at yourself now. I think you've spent very little time on this side of the fence, you still don’t know how to recognize people for what they are. You can’t buy me so easily. Clean up your disaster, and if you do not, I will not hesitate to give my testimony.”

“You will also go to jail if you do.”

“I'm sure I can get a good deal if I give you both, after all it wouldn’t be my first time in jail.”

Faced with Raditz's pressure, Bulma hesitated. The Count had included him so naturally in his plans that she never thought that he could turn his back on them. Maybe it would have been for convenience, after all he was there when they found her and Black's body. Maybe she had overestimated his relationship with Vegeta and even he probably had. Finally, the only way to keep Raditz quiet would be to prevent Goku from being indicted for her crime. And perhaps, in the absence of that relationship between them, she wouldn’t felt really upset to see Goku imprisoned for Black's death, even if it ruined Milk's life.

“No one is going to jail. Neither you, nor your brother, nor Vegeta, and I assure you that I will not either. So, from now on I need you to be more discreet with your words and more reasonable when making threats. I may have lost everything and there may not be a penny in my pockets, but I'm Bulma Briefs and you don’t scare me. Now go tell the coachman to prepare the carriage, let's go find Tarble and you better keep quiet until I tells you otherwise. Understood?”

Bulma's icy stare and her sharp words managed to disconcert him for a moment. Her decision was final and he knew it, and as he let out a growl and mumbled a few words that Bulma couldn’t hear, he withdrew to carry out her orders. Once he got through the door, Bulma let out a heavy sigh. The tone of her voice didn’t match the sea of doubt that flooded her, but that wasn’t going to stop her. If she didn’t feel strong enough to face that problem, at least she could simulate she was.

When they reached Table's address, Bulma went down and he went out to meet her when he saw Vegeta’s carriage through the window. His face was an open book and his curiosity and concern were immediately reflected. Bulma took a deep breath and straightened her back trying to be appear serene, having mentally rehearsed on the way there the lies she would tell.

“Tarble, the police went to the mansion at took Vegeta with them. They didn’t tell us why, they just said they would ask him some questions at the police station. I'm worried, could you join us?”

“Us?” He questioned, turning his gaze to the carriage and seemed surprised to see Raditz waiting for them.

“Oh, his brother was also taken to the station. Milk told me they were questioning him about the Baron's disappearance.”

“Black’s missing?” He asked incredulously and continued. “Do you think Vegeta is being interrogated for the same reason?”

It was incredibly difficult to hold his gaze after that question, but she continued with the same conviction that had forced her to respond to Raditz's threats. Vegeta counted on her.

“Maybe, but I don’t know what he has to do with all these. Vegeta hasn’t left the mansion in recent days.”

"It must be for the fight..." he murmured and then wondered if Bulma had already known what had happened after her departure in that infamous dance. “I am sure that everything will be clarified when Vegeta gives his statement, but I will also accompany you make sure. Wait for me in the carriage, I'll be with you in a minute.”

Infused with an ephemeral sense of calm, Bulma returned to the carriage and sat in front of Raditz. His appearance hadn’t changed and he seemed to be as or more worried than she was. Probably if she were in his place would behave the same, or maybe worse. If it was her, she would have turn them in.

“Raditz, what is your relationship with Black?”

He watched her out of the corner of his eye and looked back at the people in the street.

“None. My mother had an affair with Bardock, Black's father. My brother Goku and Black are half-brothers.”

“Milk told me that they didn’t have a good relationship.”

“Bardock gave money to him and my mother, that made the jerk sick. When Bardock became ill, he told Goku that he didn’t want him to be poor and that's why he recognized him as his legitimate son. When he dies, Black will have to pay him a monthly allowance. Well... we both know that that will not happen...”

“And with Black dead... and Goku being a legitimate son, that means that Goku will inherit everything when Bardock dies.”

“I hadn’t thought about it... but yes. The little wretch will inherit a title and several properties.”

“Now I understand why he was the first one they sought. It’s a very good reason to make him disappear.”

They both fell silent when they saw Tarble approach the carriage and open the door. On the way, he asked a couple of questions about the circumstances in which his brother was taken and Bulma tried to be diligent in her answers. But, despite the reassuring and trusting aura he conveyed, Tarble was also terribly concerned. After hearing that the police had taken his brother and that he could possibly be involved in Black’s disappearance, his mind traveled to that night in which he made a terrible confession.

_"Yes ... I would have killed him, I'm sure I would have done it, I wanted to do it, it would have felt so good to kill him with my own hands."_

The idea that this macabre desire had become a reality made him nervous. He snatched his briefcase and pulled a smile that tried to look peaceful. He was deeply afraid that his brother would have met Black again after that terrible encounter and worse, that he had complied with that threat. If so, would he deny it? Would he confess? Would he confess that he murdered Black? He wasn’t sure. If he denied it, he wasn’t entirely sure he could believe him either, perhaps only Black's miraculous reappearance would erase those terrible thoughts from his mind.When arriving at the police station Bulma hurriedly got out of the carriage and walked briskly to the lobby. She leaned anxiously against a desk and scanned the surroundings looking for Vegeta, but couldn’t find him. Tarble appeared behind her and greeted politely the officer who was watching them on the other side of the desk.

“Bulma, can you give me a minute to talk to him?”

Surprised by his request, she nodded reluctantly and took a few steps back. She crossed her arms and wandered in Raditz’s direction, who watched the corridors with the same curiosity as she did.

"I thought we'd find Milk here," Bulma said.

“And have everybody find out that she has a relation with my brother? She’ll drop dead first.”

“Don't say that, I think she is very much in love with him.”

“She must be. He’s poor and stupid enough to get involved in any kind of problem. This must be his greatest feat.”

Bulma smiled at the thought of the kind of person Goku was. He had spoken of him with such familiarity that she already felt that she knew him. Suddenly an arm approached Raditz's face and dragged him. His gesture became severely uncomfortable and, surprised, Bulma looked at the woman who immediately began to reprimand him while pulling his ear.

“I've been looking for you everywhere. Your brother is taken away by the police and you disappear for two days, do you want me to die of a heart attack? You two are ungrateful little brats.”

“I was working!”

“To what kind of exploiter? You didn’t come back to sleep last night.”

She quickly realized that she would probably be Goku and Raditz’s mother. But she didn’t think it was appropriate to present herself to her at that moment.

Tarble met her a few minutes later and was relieved to hear that Vegeta would soon join them. He had managed to gather some information that he shared with Bulma in a low voice. Apparently not yet had elapsed the necessary hours since the alleged disappearance of Black as to cover the case as such, however, Zamas had managed to convince the Commissioner of the seriousness of the case and thus lead Goku and Vegeta to question about it. Upon hearing that, Bulma knew immediately that they still didn’t have any concrete evidence against either of them. Although she knew it was only a matter of time before they began to investigate further. Bulma knew that Black wasn’t going to appear and his disappearance would be a fact and not a mere conjecture. Both had reasons to erase him from the map, Goku more than Vegeta. And if an investigation were to be carried out, the Raditz threat would stand.

A few steps were heard around the corridor and Bulma took her skirt tightly and walked the path leaving the rest behind her. After seeing him again she felt he weight on her shoulders disappear and although she wanted to run to him and wrap him in a hug, she stood there waiting for him with a smile. She winked at him without caring what the officers that accompanied him might think. He couldn’t help but smile sideways at that brazen gesture.

“Worried?”

"Not at all," she lied, crossing her arms.

"Thank you very much for your cooperation, Count," said one of the uniformed men before saying goodbye.

Tarble approached his brother while Raditz and his mother watched from afar. His younger brother didn’t feel as calm as Bulma did, he was uncomfortable, restless about what was really going on. Despite Vegeta's confident aura, he couldn’t shake that feeling, the certainty that there was something he did not know.

"I heard that Black is missing," he said trying to get some information out of him.

“Me too, the last time I saw him was at the dance. I have no idea what he got himself into.”

“That idiot must have a couple of enemies out there.”

"Sure..." Tarble added. “The Baron had a predisposition to pass over whoever crossed his path.”

"Maybe he met someone he couldn’t break," his brother replied.

“Let’s hope it wasn’t like that...”

Bulma couldn’t stop seeing at the count and his unbuttoned shirt. Her smile hadn’t yet been erased; she was ecstatic to see him free. She felt an immeasurable desire to take him by the arm and go out together, ride again in his carriage and return to the mansion, but there was still in her the seed of the manners that had instilled her and didn’t dare. Somehow, she knew that he wouldn’t reject her if she tried.

Suddenly Raditz's mother let out a scream and ran down the same aisle from which Vegeta had come and held a young man in her arms, the same hug she wanted to give the count when she saw him. Vegeta and Bulma turned to see the meeting and both were petrified to see him.An intense chill ran through her from head to toe and suddenly she couldn’t hear anything but the beating of her heart. The most disturbing images came to mind and she clung to the fabric of the count's jacket. Vegeta sensed what was going through her mind and held her by the arm, as if he thought she would fall on her legs at any moment. But Bulma stood her ground with her eyes fixed on Raditz's brother.

Black's ghost walked down the corridor, approaching her, and Bulma felt every step he took as an imminent threat to her. Terrified, she turned and tried to recover her sanity. That wasn’t Black, it was Goku.Tarble's dismayed gaze fell on her and asked her immediately if she was all right. Bulma straightened up, she couldn’t let herself be so compromised by Black's walking copy. Her eyes crystallized and she closed them hoping that no one had noticed. But when she closed her eyes, all she could imagine was Black ripping her dress.

A wave of courage forced her to open her eyes and face what was happening, she had to be strong. She had to do it both for her and for Vegeta's freedom.

“Yes, it must be the heat. I haven’t drunk anything since this morning. We should go back to the mansion, Vegeta.”

The count simply nodded and bade his brother farewell. Before Goku had passed him, Bulma and Vegeta had already left by the door. It was strange for him to see the way he held her from the waist, you could say that, delicately, or maybe devotion. He watched the couple retire and then heard the meeting between Goku and his brother. Apparently there was no evidence whatsoever to retain either of them just to question them about it. Tarble heard Goku's joking laughter and realized immediately that the two seemed to be polar opposites, however, he had no opportunity to interact with him or pretend to do so. When everyone left the police station, Tarble turned to the desk of the officer he had conversed with on arrival and prepared to continue with what he had planned.

Bulma's distressed appearance managed to worry him all the way to the mansion. Unsure how to approach the subject and imagining the whole series of muddled thoughts that would be oppressing her, Vegeta was silent and just stood by. He wrapped his arm around her again and gently caressed her waist. She sensed his touch immediately and suddenly felt shy. She looked at the count's profile out of the corner of her eye and stared at him. He was her accomplice, her only ally. At what point had he transformed in that way? When had he ceased to be that monstrous man who enjoyed tormenting her? The way his thumb rocked on the fabric of her dress was far from any suggestive touch she'd imagined. It was no more than a slight affirmation that he was there, at her side. Maybe he could not put it in words, maybe he would never say tender and gallant words to her as many others she had already known. But, none of them would ever have the guts that he had.

Little did she knew how hard it was for him, the feeling that there was something he needed to do with his hands. The ache on his palms, his sweaty limbs. It was strangely hard to touch a woman that way, with no ulterior intentions.  

Upon arriving at the count's mansion they found themselves immersed in total silence. Vegeta then turned to her with a stern look.

“Let's go to my office, we must talk in private.”

The confidentiality agreement that referred to Vegeta's employees, of course, would not extend so much as to avoid them from providing fundamental information to an investigation into the disappearance of a nobleman. Bulma followed Vegeta knowing they would finally talk about the issue that urgently required them. The count locked the door behind them and looked into her eyes.

“We must have the same alibi; in case they ask you to give your testimony. And you have to be convinced that what you say is true, you cannot cry, you cannot doubt what you are going to say or we will be lost.”

“I know…”

“It can happen at any time. I couldn’t talk to Raditz about it with his family there.”

“Raditz can be a problem...”

"Not if we keep his imbecile brother safe. That idiot is the real problem, I hope he has a convincing alibi because he has excellent reasons for getting rid of Black.”

“What is our alibi?”

“We'll tell exactly what happened. Raditz and I were busy, you came out for my checkbook. I forgot to give you the key, we went for you and once there I decided that we would put in my father’s office to rent. Then we went back to the mansion. Nothing more than that. It's simpler because it's true. More or less…”

“Except the part where you put in the old office in state.”

“That is also true, but for the moment I only replaced the old carpet that was ruined. It would look suspicious if we start remodeling everything right now. We’ll wait a while until is opportune to start.”

“It seems that you have everything very well planned...”

“Not sleeping gave me enough time to think about it.”

“Now that you mention it, I couldn’t close an eye on the whole night either.”

“You have to keep working on your project. We must act as normally as possible. Not even my employees should suspect that something strange has happened, if this escalates they will surely be taken to the station to give their testimony. Especially that friend of yours,” he said, watching through the window.

“Yamcha? I'm sure he haven’t noticed anything.”

“For our own good I hope so.”

"No, if Yamcha had imagined that something strange was happening he would have come to talk to me to be sure.”

“I see you are good friends...” he added changing his expression.“Of course, after all he was the one who found me in the street and brought me here. Twice…”

Maybe if the idiot had been more attentive none of this would have happened.

“You know that’s not true, if Yamcha had seen Black he would have killed him and then me. It probably would have been worse.”

“I suppose we'll never know, maybe we would have saved ourselves from all this trouble if your friend had taken care of you.”

“It wasn’t his fault!”

"I cannot believe the mess I'm in for a woman," he said, lunging against the door.

“A woman?!” she reproached as she held him, holding him by the arm.

Vegeta turned fiercely to her and watched her closely. It was the first time since he had entered the room where Black's limp body lay, in which he questioned what he was doing. He didn’t regret, nor would he go back in time to change the course of his steps. He would probably do it all over again. And when he had her in front of him his doubt dissipated, when her warm breath hit his cheek. With one hand on the knob, he squeezed it hard. It was still locked and Bulma still didn’t say a word. Maybe it was the certainty that that groom had feelings for her that had led him to question himself in that way. Or maybe it was because of his own incomprehensible feelings. He had limited himself the night before, because of the way thing happened. But there, in front of her with her lips a few centimeters away, he couldn’t control himself.

He released the knob and with his gloved hands took her by the neck and planted his lips on hers. He heard a slight surprised moan that went off when their mouths connected. Soon he was asserting himself on the desk and her soft white hands surrounded his gloved hands. Her lips parted with slight shyness and quickly corresponded to his kiss. Vegeta stroked Bulma's teeth with his tongue and then inside to fill her with his taste. The tip of her tongue touched his and managed to shake him immediately. He wanted her so badly that he would have made her his on that desk, even if it wasn’t like he really wanted to have here there the first time. He couldn’t do it like that, not now. Too soon, what kind of beast was he?

He moved quickly away from her and Bulma's pearly eyes seemed terribly puzzled. He seemed about to say something, an apology? an excuse? Contrary to what he appeared, he said nothing.

He turned, opened the door and left.

The unpleasant feeling that he always made her feel returned to hit in the middle of her chest. Vegeta's rejection grew deeper and stronger each time. Incredulous, Bulma put a hand on her chest, the grief that lived there and wondered what had happened trough his mind. Did she miss something? She repressed the anxiety she felt to face him and question him about his problem. After gathering courage she left Vegeta's office but did not find him and ended up avoiding looking for him.

The rest of the day she immediately noticed the exaggerated effort that Vegeta made to avoid her. Contrary to what she supposed of him, the count didn’t know exactly when it would be appropriate for him to take her to bed considering the terrible events that she had lived practically hours ago. He had emerged victorious after helping her remove Black's blood from her body, and from her look and the sudden change in her attitude after seeing Goku, it wasn’t something he could easily get rid of. His clumsiness was no more than a poor attempt to protect what little dignity Bulma had left. And even he was surprised at the great respect he had discovered that he had for her. he would never have had such care for another woman.

When the night came, Bulma had spent a large part of the day alone and Vegeta hadn’t even appeared at her office to see her while working on some new sketches. At times she felt such a terrible desire to stand in front of him and question what was going through his mind. For others, a horrible response rushed her and told her that maybe he didn’t want her for everything Black had tried to do with her. As horrifying as his rejection felt was the idea that he hadn’t believed her. Maybe Vegeta thought that Black had managed to rape her and that's why he didn’t want her... Without asking any questions in reality, she knew that she didn’t have the courage to hear something so nefarious. That's why it would be better to simply continue her day as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t kissed her so suddenly, as the previous kiss they had it would pass without pain or glory.

She returned to bed very late, when the mansion was submerged in a sepulchral silence. She wrapped herself between the sheets, deeply depressed, and closed her eyes. She knew it would be as difficult to go back to sleep as it was the night before, but she closed her eyes and without realizing how truly tired she was, she fell asleep.

When she opened her eyes she was still in bed. She sat up and turned to the clock on the table, not two hours had passed. She wrapped himself up again and took a deep breath, closed her eyes and turned on the bed. When she opened her eyes she saw next to her, on the bed, the glow of his teeth flashing in a sinister, perverted smile. She opened his eyes in horror and got up ready to shout the name of his beloved count with all the strength of her lungs, but his hand pressed on her face and dragged her onto the bed, turning her back to the mattress. Bulma observed the dark look of her aggressor and cried when she felt how he was holding every part of her body. There was no way to get away from him. He put a hand to his hip and she watched him do the same obscene movement he had done before, unbuttoning his pants.

 _“I want to see you while I do it...”_ he repeated as he pushed aside her underwear.

She screamed with eerie strength and finally she was able to get up. She closed her eyes and hit him with a fist. She hated him, she hated him so much...

"Easy," he said and Bulma knew that wasn’t Black's voice.

When she opened her eyes she found the Count holding her by the shoulders with half a body on the bed. His petrified gaze seemed as bewildered as hers. And Bulma, despite her disdain, burst into tears as she threw herself on his chest. Vegeta watched the despondent woman cuddle on his chest and felt her shiver inside as he saw her pain spilling over him. He stroked her back without saying anything. He had heard her cry and had come quickly while he felt a deep fear crept up his throat. When he saw her asleep wrapped up in a disturbing nightmare, he knew easily what she was battling in her dreams. He took her by the shoulders and tried to wake her up, but having returned her to his five senses hadn’t served to appease the terror she experienced.

Vegeta remembered the raging woman who had entered through his door and wondered if she would still be there, under the rubble left by Black. She had to be there; it was impossible he killed her.He caressed her gently as he had never touched any woman. Without pretensions or second intentions. He felt her tears soak his shirt and silently tilted her face and rested his chin in her hair. He breathed quietly the scent of her hair and closed his eyes. Bulma was still there.The sobs began to stop, very slowly, until they became heavy breaths. Then she raised her face to face him and her dismayed expression hurt him. Why did she watch him that way?He delicately took a hair that landed on her pale cheek and brought it to her ear, surrounded it with a gentle gesture and she closed her eyes. She wanted to feel the touch of his hands and not lose a moment of that feeling. Then she turned her blue gaze back to the count's turbulent eyes and smiled at him with some sorrow.

“It was only a dream...” he said.

“I'm afraid to go back to sleep and dream about it again.”

It was hard for him to accept that there would be many things he couldn’t manipulate to make her life easier, and her dreams were effectively something he had no control over. He looked at the bed and thought it was wide enough for both of them and, considering that he had spent the whole day trying to control himself so as not to throw himself at her again, he thought it would be possible to share it.

"I'll sleep with you..." he answered and quickly continued to see the rosy tone of her cheeks. “I can lie over the sheets. Maybe it will help you sleep.”

Bulma smiled, touched by that gesture. That was the man who she had fallen in love with, the one hiding behind such haughtiness, the one who destroyed her façade with simple and perhaps tiny details for those who didn’t know him. For her he was different, she knew that behind every tiny gesture there was an internal battle fought.

"Okay..." she answered softly.

He separated from her and took off his shoes. He was wearing a light cotton shirt and dark pants. She watched him adjust his pillow and lie down next to her, then took both hands to his navel and closed his eyes. Bulma turned smiling to see his profile and was amused by his frown even when trying to sleep.

"Are you going to look at me the whole night?” he questioned her still with his eyes closed.

“Probably.”

He smiled so lightly that it was hard to notice, and as she watched that tiny gesture at the corners of his lips she realized she barely understood who he was. She barely caressed a surface of the person underneath. How many years would it take her to get to the center? She wondered, still admiring his strong profile.

“Vegeta...”

“Mhm?...”

“I think I owe you an apology.”

He raised an eyebrow and even with one eye closed he looked at her with some curiosity, didn’t understand why he could be owned apology from her. If he thought about it a little more, it would surely have to be the other way around and Vegeta should be the one to apologize to her.

“Why would you?” He questioned and watched her rise and kneel beside him.His interest was awakened and he was waiting to listen to it.“When we met, I was very discourteous to you, I should have accepted that piece.”

Vegeta remembered the day they met, but he realized that his and hers were different memories, from very distant moments. Then he brought his mind to the start of the season dance and smiled as he brought to mind the embarrassment Bulma subjected him to that night.

“When we met, huh?” he said with a certain mystery though his voice. “You were the least bitchy of all the woman in that event.”

"Ey..." she scolded him, wanting to hit him with her pillow, but when she saw him lying on her bed next to her, she wanted to ask him what had managed to torment him all afternoon. “Vegeta... why do you continue to reject me this way?”

Cornered by her words, he leaned on his elbow and although he opened his mouth there were no words that came out of it. Bulma wiped her face even slightly wet with the sleeve of her bedding and waited attentively for the answer she probably could not bear. But she had to be strong.

"I don’t..." he began uncomfortably and then he thought again about what to say but he couldn’t express what he was thinking. “I can’t," he said without further ado.Bulma felt in his words the overwhelming reality that he simply couldn’t touch her and although he hadn’t explained his reasons, she thought she knew why.

“So, you don’t like me anymore?” she asked, although to herself it was no more than a simple statement.

  
"It's not what I meant," he said quickly approaching her. It was terribly complicated the task of explaining all the mental process that had led him to control his most basic impulses, and his deepest desires. He had never told her he liked her, Bulma simply assumed that it had been like that, maybe he was obvious without even realizing it. Not even he knew what was happening to him or why, all he knew was that her image in that simple pajamas, with messy hair and the wet skin of her cheeks, was simply breathtaking. The sound of his voice made her skin crawl, and finally she couldn’t contain what she had been keeping since that last kiss he had given her in her office and before he could even recriminate her, Bulma had leaned over him and kissed him softly on the lips.

He closed his eyes and wrapped his hand over her fragile neck that still dripped the moisture from her tears. He wanted her still fragile, he would make her his, even if a disturbing shadow followed her closely. He stroked the skin beneath her fingers and felt her tremble beneath his touch. His tongue came to test hers with more anxiety than before. Little moans were palpated under Bulma's lips and for the count they were nothing more than convincing pleas for him to continue. His hands traveled smoothly to the front of her nightgown and one by one unbuttoned the buttons that protected her cleavage. Below, Bulma's white skin boiled with desire and anxiety to feel the first touch, the first caress of her virgin skin. She froze when her chest was slightly uncovered. Vegeta detached himself from her lips for a moment and barely opened his eyes to take a look at what he had done. With great care he slid his fingertips through Bulma's snowy clavicle and felt her agitated breathing under his hands. The delicious swell of her chest caught him immediately and before continuing the journey that his hands craved, he approached her neck and kissed it. She moaned again under the lovely touch of his wet lips.

Her heartbeat accelerated as she perceived the path that traced the count's tongue over her neck and automatically brought a hand to his black hair and tangled her fingers in it. Vegeta traced her back with one hand and dragged her against his chest, then paced touching her ribs and felt her bare skin perfectly under the thin fabric of her nightgown. He dragged his thumb under the curve of her breast until he finally managed to wrap it in his hand and felt the soft texture of her swollen nipple. He couldn’t help but snort and kneel against her. She was his.

He breathed the scent of her hair once more and leaned her body on the bed. When her back found the mattress and their bodies parted, Bulma watched the count once more. His hands surrounded her like a cage and she slid her fine fingers over his slightly brown skin. She ran her arms up to his elbow and found the frown on his shirt. Then she looked into his eyes with her face flushed and shy. She swallowed softly as she watched him taking his clothes off over his head. It didn’t take him long to meet her gaze again and then he looked at her nightgown with doubt.Bulma imitated the count and, embarrassed, took the ends of her clothes to remove it. Vegeta watched in ecstasy the way her back arched to slide the gown, exposing her naked body completely. Still embarrassed she held his gaze, when her nightgown stepped aside and there was nothing to separate their bodies more than the count's pants.With the back of his knuckles, Vegeta leaned and caressed the bare skin of her abdomen, perceiving under every inch the small jumps of a Bulma shaken by her sensations. He continued to gently touch the porcelain under his hands. She felt his warm breath caressing her breasts and the beat of her heart runaway beneath her skin. Every part of her body throbbed with force and an unexpected sigh left her lips when Vegeta pawed his fingertips below her navel.

He saw her up close, contemplating her embarrassed face with desire. He wondered for a moment how soon it would be for him to touch with his hands the south of her figure and gave up immediately. Candidately, returned to her chest and wrapped one of her breasts with his hand and when he heard her moan; he couldn’t control his cravings and wrapped her nipple with his lips. He barely closed his teeth on that small, sensitive part of her body and heard her moan his name. Her hands ran down his back and her nails dug lightly on him. He could barely control the need he felt for merging into her. He pressed her breasts and lean against Bulma’s small body. He felt her knees tremble and separate slowly for him. Then he pressed himself against her body, letting her feel how much he really wanted her. He pulled away from her breasts and kissed her on the mouth again, but Bulma suddenly felt strange. Vegeta's weight brought a suffocating memory and before she could control it her eyes became wet. The count put a hand to his pants and a terrifying image hit her. With his hands he pushed him away from him.

“Don’t!” she said without realizing it.

Vegeta watched in astonishment and immediately recognized Bulma's petrified gaze. The feeling of being compared to Black affected him more than he could have anticipated. The count's body cooled instantly and he felt the chill night breeze brush against his skin.

He took Bulma's nightgown and returned it without sharing a word.

“Wait...”  she told him as he left the bed.

The count still didn’t know how to feel about what had just happened, but after seeing Bulma's troubled look he could not take another step.

“Don’t go…”

“Fine.”

He had a strange look as he walked around the bed to return to the place where he initially was. He leaned back and didn’t look at Bulma as she put on her bedding once more. Bulma wrapped herself in the sheets petrified by the terrible memory she had had and wondered why she had felt that way, if the two of them were abysmally different. Terrified about the idea that that event could stalk her for the rest of her life, she rested her head on the pillow and her gesture got distressed.Vegeta meditated at the same time on what he had done and knew how much reason he had at first when he preferred to take things slowly. He thought about what kind of atrocious memories Bulma would keep and that she might never share with him in detail.

"I'm sorry..." she said, her voice wrapped in a thread.

“If you let him dominate the rest of your life, still dead he would have won…”

Vegeta's last words before closing his eyes penetrated deeply. She tried to sleep and, despite everything, the count's presence with her had managed to give her some peace of mind. The strange memory of Black driven by similar sensations disgusted her and, nevertheless, she didn’t manage to repress it. Vegeta was right. Black's ghost seemed to lie between them and she could not afford it. She had literally eliminated him from the face of the earth and now she had to erase him from her mind. She couldn’t give him the satisfaction of ruining her for another man during what was left of her life.The count's discomfort dissipated slightly as he heard the way she asked him to stay. It was contradictory for him to hear her reject him and then ask him almost in a tone of supplication to remain by her side. But he knew he could never get under her skin to know what she was feeling. He imagined for a moment how he would have touched her, how far his sinister hands would have explored her. And after thinking about it for a few seconds he made a great effort to remove it from his mind. The image was simply emetic for him.

That night it was particularly hard for him to fall asleep, but he was relieved to notice that Bulma was sound asleep. Her calm face made him believe that maybe she wouldn’t have nightmares again, maybe, maybe thanks to him. He would never have imagined that it would be possible that he was the one who brought calm to another human being. And if it was not enough with everything he had done for her, he realized at that moment how much he wanted to protect her from any evil that would take away her sleep. But would he be willing to carry that desire to the ultimate consequences? If Raditz confessed to save his younger brother, would he go to jail instead of Bulma? Shortly after he managed to sleep with that question wandering in his mind and reproaching a bit what he had just done with her. A warm feeling invaded him. He had never slept with a woman he had sex with.

Disturbed from the moment he pushed open the door, he walked through the darkness carrying a strange premonition. He raised his oil lamp and lit the room. At first glance there was nothing unusual. His father's old furniture was still covered with white sheets, the white curtains had turned gray and yellowed by the sun and the pass of time. As he walked to the office he noticed that the wood under his feet was clean. He raised an eyebrow and turned to the stairs. The dust on the steps revealed the marks of several footsteps, then he went up to the first floor and  returned.

Tarble retraced his steps and faced the door of his father's office. He hoped not to find anything, he hoped that everything in Vegeta's statement was irrefutable. He took the doorknob and pushed it, took a breath and then entered and examined the room with a clinical eye. He realized immediately that his father's old carpet was gone. The wood had even been protected from the inclemency of the sun and a mark remained on the floor where the carpet used to be, but found another a little smaller. The floor was clean, completely. Definitely Vegeta hadn’t lied, he had been there.

Maybe he should have trusted him fully, he thought. He was ashamed of the way he had requested a copy of Vegeta's statement at the police station, but he had to prove with his own two eyes that his brother wasn’t involved in any wrongdoing. He wouldn’t tell him, that was for sure. He had no choice, Vegeta had dragged him into that.However, although superficially his statement coincided with what he was seeing, it didn’t fully explain it. He ran a finger over one of the shelves in his father's library and the dust stuck to his yolk. Then he looked at the desk, impeccable.He felt a sharp pain in the pit of his stomach. He swallowed hard and took a small key from his pocket. He dragged the drawer and discovered with incredible anguish that his father's checkbook was still there.

Vegeta had lied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know about you guys but I couldn't write a sex scene right after Bulma was almost rape. It didn't feel right. She had a terrible experience; she still has a trauma to deal with and I didn't want to walk right pass it. And Vegeta is clearly really attentive to everything that she does, he can tell she is not back yet. I hope you see this as I do. I have much respect for this kind of situations and I don't like them being treated poorly. I hope I'm not doing it.   
> Anyway, this was quite a romantic chapter, I hope you like it. It's really hard to imagine Vegeta doing these things but I imagine that not being tortured during his youth made him a little more like DBSuper Vegeta. What do you think? Let me know. Thank you so much for reading this story!


	20. Chapter XX

* * *

** IN YOUR HANDS **

* * *

 

**Chapter**

-XX-

* * *

 

He wasn’t sure about what he knew. He kept in his pocket the checkbook he had taken from his father's desk since that night when he found it. He clung to it as if it were the key to solving the mystery of what had happened with Black. But what had happened to him? He was terrified of the answers he imagined, he found himself choking on questions that he simply couldn’t say out loud.

“You are particularly quiet today... It's not that it bothers me, it's a relief.”

“Huh? Me? No, I was thinking of something...”

"Uhm..." Vegeta replied selflessly as he opened the correspondence that had arrived in the morning. He began to read and pressed his lips as he thought about those words and then looked at him again. “Are you going to tell me what you came to if it wasn’t to annoy me?”

His hands trembled as he shoved them into his jacket pocket. He try to hide his anguished expression, he was truly terrified of what might be happening. The certainty that he had lied in his statement might not imply that he was directly implied to Black's disappearance. It didn’t help his theory that a week had passed and that it had passed without any news from the Baron.

Tarble got up and left something on Vegeta's desk, then sat down again. The count took the envelope with an uncomfortable expression.

“An invitation?”

“Surprised?”

“I can’t say I’m not. I thought that I was finally banned from these stupidities.”

“Well, it seems that isn’t the case. And I'm glad, we still have a problem to solve.”

“I haven’t forgot about it.”

“Maybe you'd like to get out of this mansion for a moment... I've noticed that you haven’t left in the last days.”

"Your false concern is touching, Tarble." He laughed. “We both know what you want, aren’t we a bit too old to pretend?”

“Come on Vegeta, I mean it. The only thing you do is be here and I already learned that you are planning to finance a project for that woman. If you don’t plan on marrying her, I advise you not to expose yourself in this way. Everyone has asked me if you really live with her, it's scandalous and you know it. Besides, you'll end up ruining her chances of finding a good husband. You know how this works. At least do me the favor of leaving this mansion for a few hours, it's an equestrian competition. You haven’t ridden Storm decently for several months.”

The count glanced at the correspondence envelopes on his desk and took the invitation to take a look. He was used to listening to Tarble's constant pleas, prompting him to meet some demure society lady to get married and have children, as his father so eagerly expected of him. But suddenly it bothered him the way he had referred to Bulma. Was he spoiling her for other men? he wondered, and the idea of someone else pretending her bothered him. No one knew for all that Bulma had went through, no one had been by her side during her most tragic hour. Nobody but him. And so, he had spent the last few nights sharing her bed and doing no more than sleeping, would another man treat her with the same respect?

Very much in spite of that, the certainty that Tarble had about him not planning to marry Bulma filled him with unexpected uneasiness. His stomach twisted at the thought of finally getting married.

He had never liked the tradition, or at least not the idea of what it meant and what he had seen that it really was. Two parents completely estranged from each other, a mother who secretly hated her husband and probably also her son for reminding her of him so much. An unfaithful wife who paraded through other people's bedrooms during her husband's long working days. An office away from home, probably created with the sole and simple purpose of avoiding his family. How could they expect him to commit to such a miserable life? Although, the more he thought about it, the comparison between his mother and Bulma was impossible to make. There was nothing between them that was similar, there was nothing that reminded him of each other. They were polar opposites, completely different worlds.

Vegeta knew perfectly what were the steps to follow in courting a lady. They had been taught to him with high-handedness, noticing how much he refused to comply with them. The count knew from memory the procedure, and he had completely overlooked it in his relationship with Bulma. Their relationship had arisen almost naturally, and now, without knowing what they were, the idea of marriage arose with incredible discomfort.

"Okay, I'll go," he finally replied. “But don’t think I’ll do it for you... Storm needs exercise.”

His younger brother smiled, but there was something in his expression that seemed not to have him completely satisfied. He assumed that it was probably the tedious clause in his father's will, as usual. But he was far from imagining what was going through Tarble's mind.

He didn’t have the courage to know the truth, at least not for the moment. He got up and said goodbye to Vegeta, and still with the checkbook in his possession, he left.

Vegeta's statement was very clear. He had said that he had gone to that old abandoned office in search of that checkbook. There was no point in him forgetting it that way and even later, not having come back for it. The suspicious situation in which he had found the office generated uncertainty, and although he prayed that Black's wretch appeared, he didn’t respond to her plea.The investigation had continued its course and several more people were called to testify. Above all, the notary who had legally recognized Goku as Bardock's legitimate son. He gave detail of the discussion that they had maintained at the end of the process. Black's last words to his half-brother had been no more than disproportionate threats. However, they still didn’t have much evidence to blame him for any crime and that had managed to keep Vegeta relatively calm.Once alone, he took the envelope that had arrived in the morning and that he had read in Tarble's presence. It seemed so convenient what was written there that he couldn’t help but take a second look. And, although he hated to admit it, Tarble was right. Vegeta had to get married as soon as possible.

A few days later the Count approached the stables. He found Storm annoying Yamcha, in his daily task of brushing his fur. The animal stirred with apathy, while the groom approached him with his hands up, waiting for a kick. Vegeta smiled wickedly.

"I hope he's ready for the competition this afternoon," he snapped, taking him by surprise.

"Yes, my Lord..." he whispered, looking over his shoulder without neglecting the erratic movements of his steed.

As its owner approached, the beast became docile and lowered its head to receive its long-awaited caress. Vegeta withdrew one of his white gloves and slid his hand through the black thicket of his fur.

“I wish he would let me do that.”

"Storm is very selective," the count answered.

Yamcha smiled kindly, as he always did. The Count watched him out of the corner of his eye hoping to find something in his expression that would give him away, something that would show that he knew it. That he knew something more about what happened with Black. But he didn’t find anything out of the ordinary. Yamcha seemed completely unaware of what had happened in his office. He discarded that idea without giving it a lot of thought. But when he turned to the groom he found his eyes lost between the windows of the first floor. He take a look of what the boy was curious about and found one of his libraries. It didn’t surprise him in the least, Bulma was there very often and he knew perfectly well that the young man had developed some feeling towards her.“Is there anything else I can help you with?” He asked, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Yes, you're going to accompany me to the encounter. I need you to saddle Storm and prepare him for the competition.”

Meanwhile, Bulma looked selflessly at a book she had read before. Nathalie removed the books from the same shelf she had cleaned the day before, with the sole reason of staying with her once more. Bulma looked at her while doing her chores. Her hair, finely gathered and tight in a bun, was a long way from the lush loose hair she wore when she met her. The bruise she had had become no more than a diffuse yellow spot. Her clean clothes no longer smelled like cheap perfume.

"You should ask the count to buy you new books," Nathalie said, noticing Bulma's obvious disinterest in her reading.

"Maybe..." Bulma answered and glanced over the window, seeing only the rest of the first floor and the roof of the stables. Then she turned her gaze back to Nathalie and continued. “How was your first week?”

“I suppose you'll think I'm crazy to say it, but it's pretty darn boring. Don’t get me wrong... Is not that I want to go back to the brothel. Although I must admit that the police search and interrogation was exciting.”

Bulma frowned as she remembered that incident and, although Vegeta had already warned her that it would probably happen, she wasn’t ready to face it when it happened.

* * *

_They knocked on the door with exacerbated emotion. Again and again. Three more times. Bulma heard them from the kitchen while having tea with Nathalie and immediately imagined the worst. Maybe Black's body had finally appeared. Maybe they came looking for her, or in the worst case, they were looking for Vegeta, accused of her crime. She stood up with a frown, but Nathalie stepped forward and walked firmly to the door, totally surprised and oblivious to the real situation that was happening. She went after her and when she opened the door slightly, an office pushed it completely, raising a document to her face._

_"I have a Judge's warrant," he said as at least twenty troops entered the mansion._

_Bulma felt invaded, while officers passed by her and there was nothing she could do to stop them. She watched them walk and enter the kitchen, disappearing behind the corridors in search of something. They were looking for what would link them to Black's disappearance.The count descended the stairs a few seconds later. And Bulma envied the total calmness of his gaze that hid beneath an angry being. He went down slowly and did not lose sight of the officer still brandishing the warrant. He withdrew it from his hands and glanced at it, then with great disinterest he returned it and the officer's expression seemed slightly surprised._

_"Nonsense..." he said and crossed his arms, watching the officers rummage around every corner of his mansion._

_"Count, we must take your employees to the station to testify," he said later, trying to stretch the crumpled paper in his lap._

_“Do what you have to do officer.”_

_Nathalie was the first to be taken to the carriage that was waiting for her outside, and Bulma felt the guilt for what her actions had dragged on to the rest. The maid violently removed herself from the intense grip of the officers and ended up climbing the chariot by herself. More employees followed her, until suddenly she heard a voice above her and Vegeta's face reflected a slight tension._

_“You have to come with us, miss.”_

_Bulma knew at that moment that she would have to imitate Vegeta and simulate total composure. She didn’t have to dig deep inside to realize that she had no remorse for what she had done. The macabre scenes of Black's death were what disturbed her the most, but not killing him. Had it been a cleaner death, she probably wouldn’t even have questioned it. She straightened her back and walked firmly through the door without turning to the Vegeta._

_On the outskirts, at least four carriages awaited to take Vegeta's employees to testify, and the neighbors stayed on the sidewalk watching the show with attention. She heard footsteps running down the sidewalk and found a restless Tarble, approaching the entrance. When seeing the form in which they took her he got remarkably disturbed, but he didn’t manage to reach her, they inmediatly put her into the carriage. Tarble watched her with sorrow through the window and nodded in a gesture of express solidarity. What he really regretted was that a horrifying act that his brother might have committed might have sunk her more than she already was. Tarble, then entered the mansion and the last image that Bulma managed to see was him talking to the officer with Vegeta._

* * *

She trembled inside at the thought of that day, as she had done when declaring. And how the count had told her: "We will tell exactly what happened". She discovered that it wasn’t too hard to do so, omitting all the parts in which Black was involved. For their peace of mind, they couldn’t find anything to link them to Black. Not in the office, not in the count's mansion. Yamcha's statement had been exactly the same as hers and for the moment there were no loose ends. But that didn’t bring her much security.

Upon returning to the mansion after her statement, Vegeta was waiting for her with the letters opener in his hands and questioned why she kept it. It seemed like a kind of macabre souvenir. When he placed it on her hands he wondered what would have happened if they used it against him as a murder weapon. But how would they achieve it? She had cleaned it three times after killing Black. Bulma had even cleaned it a few more times the following days. There was nothing in it that could give it away. It was an ordinary letter opener.

"Well ..." Nathalie said, pulling her out of her thoughts. “Are you going to tell me what's going on with the count or not?”

Bulma paled and opened her mouth without a concrete answer.

“What are you talking about?” she questioned, slowly regaining her composure.

“Come on... everyone has noticed.”

A sudden fear crept up her throat and didn’t let her speak.

"The earl has not used his bed for several days," Nathalie continued quietly. “Are you sharing it?”

Bulma smiled with relief after hearing her words and with the certainty that still nobody could link them to the disappearance of Black. She finally managed to catch her breath.

“Aren’t you going to tell me anything? It wouldn’t be the first time that a boss has slept with an employee.”

“It's not what you're thinking.”

“Well, if it's not in your bed, who is he sleeping with?”

“I mean yes... but, it's hard to explain.”

“He sleeps with you, but you don’t have sex?” asked abandoning her tasks completely, “Could it be that the count has some performance issues?”

“That's not what I said!” she said, her face invaded with modesty. “I mean, yes, we have slept together the last few nights, but we just haven’t had sex...”

“Is he a deviant?”

“Nathalie! Of course not!”

“Then I can’t find another explanation.”

He thought about how he could explain her reason, without revealing the terrible details that had stopped her.

“You see... When we were about to... but, I couldn’t. There was someone else who tried... against my will...”

“Are you talking about Harris?” Bulma looked Nathalie in the eyes and found a window of opportunity.

"Yes," she said confidently.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?

Nathalie approached Bulma quickly and sat next to her. In her eyes she found empathy and a slight frustration. However, she remained silent at her side expecting her to share some detail with her.

“I felt ashamed...”

“You don’t have to. Damn that miserable, pervert. Who does he think he is? Surely he believes that because you aren’t rich anymore he can do with you whatever he pleases. Well, no!”

Bulma smiled slightly, left her book on the table with great relief, she was finally able to share that awful moment with another person, even if her victimizer was disguised under another name.

“He tried to rape me. And I have not been able to get him out of my head since then. I often have dreams about him. Or his memory hits me from nowhere. I've tried to forget it, it's been... a long time passed,” she hesitated, “Vegeta and I almost... but... Harris was in my mind and I just couldn’t continue. Not with him there, next to us.”

Nathalie's sudden embrace enveloped her and with some doubt she corresponded. She wasn’t sure how bad it was on her part to lie to her in that way to reveal her a truth. However, she felt strangely comforted by saying it out loud.

“I know it may not be any consolation to tell you this. Maybe it's not what you need now, but what happened to you is something you can never completely forget. We learn to live with it, we grow from it. We are stronger than that. Don’t let it weaken you, make yourself stronger Bulma. You are! Look at you, you are in one piece.”

“At moments I wonder if I really am.”

“You are, Bulma. You are complete. Don’t let anyone make you believe otherwise.”“Thank you…”“Now... this changes quite a bit the idea I had of the count. He just sleep with you because he knows you're not ready?”“He helps me sleep at night.”

“I'm offended a bit that you haven’t been able to tell me before. But I understand why you did it. Maybe I can find a couple of friends who can pay Harris a visit," she said, stroking her chin with a peculiar gleam in her eyes.

“Don’t!” Bulma exclaimed, scandalized. “It's okay, it's been a long time. I don’t want to get anyone in trouble because of this.”

“You cannot defend him, he tried to rape you!”

“I know, but... I just want to leave it behind.”

“If those are your reasons, I will respect them. But if something like that happens again, promise me that you'll tell me so we'll take care of it.”

Bulma nodded calmly. Nathalie tucked an untidy strand of her hair behind her ear and smiled at her with full confidence and a sensation surrounded them. Bulma wiped a tear that was just beginning to form on her pupil and straightened up. Nathalie got up and took the books she had left lying on the table and to her surprise Bulma got up next to her to help her.

After the afternoon, Bulma saw Vegeta leave with a small group of employees. He had told her about the equestrian encounter he would attend and although she wanted to accompany him, she didn’t receive an invitation. She also knew that it would be strange. He hadn’t stopped being a noble man, even if he shared her bed. And she hadn’t stopped being an employee of his. It was the most respectful for his host to stand alone.

The Marques of Salisbury’s mansion was at least ten times larger than Vegeta's mansion. The leafy acres surrounding were full of small lakes and forests. It was probably the most imposing structure Vegeta had ever seen. Its large windows were at least three meters high. It was surrounded by gigantic balconies and granite staircases. Upon arrival he found a lot of carriages and the horses were led by a dozen employees to the stables.

Yamcha got out of the carriage and tried to keep Storm calm while they separated from the count. Tarble got out of the car and watched the guests accompany him, and immediately he felt the disapproving glances go towards his older brother. This didn’t escape the count, and for a moment he wondered how he had managed to receive an invitation after the terrible embarrassment he had caused at the last ball.

He hurried through the mansion to the backyards, and Tarble stayed very close to him. On the other side young daughters of nobles gathered under colorful umbrellas. Tarble heard a couple of laughs and as he turned around several ladies hid their gesture under white silk gloves. It became evident to him, the contrast between the look of veterans and young women. The reprobation of the gentleman was almost palpable in the air, while the curiosity of the young girls grew noticeably.

"I think you have admirers," Tarble told his brother.

Vegeta took a glass from a tray of an extremely dressed-up waiter and after taking a sip he leaned towards the youngest.

“Maybe they are looking at you. You should take the opportunity to ask to be introduced, since you are old enough to court a lady. I think you know quite well that, if I fail to comply with the clause, you must do it.”

"It is not the time or the place for us to talk about that," he replied with obvious discomfort.

“It seems to me the most opportune moment. Go ahead, do it. I'm not the only one who has responsibilities with our family. What is the problem?”

“None…”

“Excellent. Ask someone to present them to you.”

“We have hardly arrived, we have all afternoon.”

“Okay, but keep in mind that if you don’t look for a wife I will do it for you.”

Tarble's eyes widened as he turned to see his brother and discover he was serious. There was not a hint of a smile to indicate that it was a very heavy joke and he trembled at the thought of the wife he could find for him. He gulped hard and turned to see the women in front of him. All of protruding laughs and tight necklines.

Vegeta couldn’t really care less about Tarble's commitment or not, even if it was within his duties to make sure he got a beneficial union. Since the investigation started, he had often thought of all the possible scenarios in which the investigation of Black’s disappearance would end. Among them was that they could link him directly to his death and ended up imprisoned for killing another nobleman. And being that way, maybe he could negotiate the gallows for exile, since he also had an important nobiliary title. What would happen after being judged was what worried him the most. Bulma would be adrift again and he had not yet complied with his father's demands in his will. His assets would pass to someone else and his title would return to the crown, except in the event that Tarble could fulfill it before him.

Vegeta watched Tarble's weary face, while his trembling pupil wandered among the guests. If everything went wrong, he would ask him to take care of Bulma. But for that he had to get married as soon as possible.He watched him as he separated from him to strike up a conversation with an count from another state, he was left alone holding his glass and suppressed the feeling that invaded him. He had fled for a long time to such social events, he felt totally out of place and perhaps what bothered him the most was that everyone present knew about the police procedure that had taken place on his property. Although nobody would dare to call him a murderer in that place, he perceived it in their eyes and in the deliberate way in which they avoided him.

While meditating on his father's will, he noticed an alien look on him and looked up to meet him. Zamas watched him from afar, meeting with a fairly large group of gentlemen. The shock of his grayish gaze with his dark ones was intense, almost overwhelming. Rarely had he seen a similar expression, but never as bitter as the one he addressed at that moment. And for a moment Vegeta felt the terrible certainty that Zamas knew. He felt cornered, however, no one was going to break him. A more animated group interposed between the two fo them and he lost sight of him. Suddenly he felt restless and did everything possible to control the cravings he felt to leave. He wasn’t going to be left in evidence, although he left his glass and took another from the next tray he saw passing by. By the time Tarble arrived Vegeta's expression was extremely tense.

"The competition is about to start," he said, with the sole purpose of distracting him.

“It was about time…”

He seemed to have completely forgotten the conversation they had held minutes ago. His mind was elsewhere and he would have liked to know where, not to believe that he was thinking about a crime that he most likely committed.The crowd that accompanied them seemed excited about the meeting and, thanks to the new arrival spring, they were surrounded by a temperate climate. The sun's rays felt on the skin and the cloudless sky made it an ideal day for equestrian competition.Vegeta and Tarble walked along with the rest of the nobles to the premises where the competition would begin. There they were waited for several tables adorned with white tablecloths and floral decorations as centerpieces. Vegeta watched the employees seat the older women in the group, who constantly fanned their faces with their chins raised, apathetic, and managed to remind him of his mother's perpetual expression. The youngest and most enthusiastic were waiting to stand to see more closely the riders, probably hoping to get out of there with some interesting proposal from some pompous gentlemen.

Yamcha came along with Storm, pulling on his reins while trying to keep a calm gesture. Although he couldn’t stop clenching his teeth every time the horse moved wildly. Worried that Storm could rise on his hind legs at any moment and cause a commotion, the count hurried toward him and mounted his back quickly. Yamcha let out a sigh, relieved that he didn’t have to take responsibility for that beast for a moment longer.His younger brother sat down and watched the other gentlemen cheer up, their horses saddled and ready for the competition. He heard a couple of jokes lit by a competitive spirit in which his brother didn’t participate in.At his table a baroness with gray hair and flaccid cheeks ignored him remarkably, and speaking to the Marquis who was next to her spoke in a dismissive tone while watching him out of the corner of her eye.

"It's a disgrace what happened with Baron Black ..." she began, but Tarble turned, directing his gaze to the steeds and drank from his wine glass, pretending to ignore it. “At a time like this we should be more cautious about who we invite to these events. They are not for anyone, and much less for wild beasts that end up ruining them.”

“I totally agree with you, if I had known that they would come, I would have rejected the invitation.”

“I always knew that they were a couple of rotten apples, after all they are only the product of their mother. If they didn’t have their father’s eyes, I would think that they are not even from noble blood.”

Tarble made a maximum effort to remain silent, despite being ousted at the same table he was sitting on. However, his diplomacy didn’t need to be sustained for a long time, since the Marquise stood up with difficulty and the man who was talking to her hurried to run the chair in which she sat.

“This is inadmissible. The Marquis of Salisbury is going to listen to me.”

Tarble stood up while she retreated, keeping the modesty that had been instilled in him and watched her retreat. He sat down again, more uncomfortable than before when he was totally alone at that table and to his disgrace; he had missed the small opening speech of the event. He could see Vegeta from afar riding on Storm and it seemed particular to him that his was the only black colt in the entire competition, but it made it easily recognizable at the same time.One of the chairs next to him stirred and Tarble turned to look at that brave man who had dared to sit with him and with surprise faced the smiling face of his cousin Nappa. His curled mustache adorned his strange smile and the animated expression on his face didn’t make him friendlier, but more unpleasant.

“Nappa...” he mumbled when he saw him, “You are not participating in the competition?”

"It's not my sport," he began, leaning on the table. “How things have changed,” he said, looking at the empty seats next to them. “A while ago this table would have been full of people, especially when your father was alive.”

“I know... we had a couple of inconveniences. But I am sure that when they are resolved everything will return to normal.”

“Are you sure? Everything that has happened lately is... a stain difficult to erase.”

“We will recover.”

“I've heard that Vegeta is living with a girl. They married?”

“Not that I know.”

“It would be another scandal if they’ve married in secret. If so, you can start forgetting these luxurious events.”

“Vegeta will be married, in due time.”

“I think you're running out of time... and you know what will happen if he doesn’t marry.”

“Are you really thinking about that?”

“How not to do it? Each time I go to collect my allowance I realize how big Vegeta's mansion is compared to mine.”

“I remind you that you live where you live by marrying my cousin, and you receive an allowance thanks to her.”

"And I will inherit all your assets if Vegeta fails to fulfill your father's will," he added with a broad smile. “I'm sorry, Tarble. But I don’t think I should spend much time with you, after all you would ruin my image.”

He patted him hard on the back and managed to tip over the untainted tablecloth with the wine rocking inside his glass. When he found himself alone for the second time, he thought about his words and remembered the ones Vegeta had told him that day. If Vegeta didn’t marry and conceive an heir within the next year, his entire inheritance would pass to the next relative with a male child. He had no choice but to take the matter into his hands. He gulped, examining the fine ladies gathered there and wondered which one of them would take as husband the brother of a presumed murderer.

After a few minutes, several waiters served the tea with an exorbitant amount of sweet pastries. But Tarble had completely lost his appetite. He punched a piece of apple pie and undid it with his fork. The tea that had been served cooled down and the only thing he was waiting for at that moment was for Vegeta to return so he could get away from there, understanding for a moment the apathy he felt for those events.

For a moment the disappearance of Black almost completely disappeared from his mind. And he even considered all that event as a huge lack of respect for the Baron. The mediocrity of those people who looked at him with contempt did not translate to all that event. He was annoyed at the speed with which they were judged, and yet they continued to get drunk and fill their mouths with food, simulating an alleged anguish over Black's whereabouts.

It wasn’t until he saw Storm returning alone among the field that his mind went totally blank. He stood up, as well as several gentlemen surprised to see the animal riding runaway without his rider. Several ladies began to ask loudly what was happening until a second rider appeared on the scene raising a hand in the air. Something had happened with Vegeta. Tarble hurried to meet Storm and tried to take his reins while a mounted man approached. The steed's anxiety got under his skin. So disturbed was he that he didn’t notice the presence of Yamcha next to him trying to calm the animal.

“He has fallen off the horse!” The rider exclaimed loudly. “The count has fallen by the lake!”

A team met quickly and when Tarble was about to climb Storm's back to join them, Yamcha stopped him by putting a hand on his chest.

"Wait..." he said in a cold voice. “The reins are broken...”

Tarble quickly examined the white reins of the horse and saw the threads hanging and the leather split.

“You didn’t check it before leaving?”

“I did, I checked it in the mansion and when I arrived I did it again. I would never have allowed him to ride if I hadn’t!”

Without time to stop to analyze the situation carefully, he mounted on a horse that another man offered him. And, guided by the first rider, they continued the journey to Vegeta.

Blood flowed coldly through his body and he could hear the beating of his heart above the words of his guide. He knew that they would be approaching as the other contestants of the competition appeared in the area with the same anguished face as the first one. When he saw the lake; he knew that there was not much left. And when he got off the horse walking, fearing the worst results, something in pulled his gut; knew something was terribly wrong. Although his inner voice told him how strong his brother was.

Late in the afternoon, Bulma didn’t know what to do with herself other than wandering around the mansion waiting for Vegeta. She had taken a bath and thanks to Nathalie's words she had managed to get out of her mind the barbarity that had lived a short time ago. With a renewed sense of integrity and a certain internal strength, she was reaffirmed that she would come out of this in one piece. And with even greater strength she decided not to let Black stand between the count and her.

Driven by those feelings, she paid special attention to her appearance in the hope that Vegeta would be terribly captivated by her. In the same way that all men had done in her previous life, fighting to get her to dance with them. She regretted not having any expensive perfume to put on her neck, as if it were a subtle trap for the count. She settled for the scent of her soap, though to her liking it had been erased too quickly.She began to get discouraged after hours. She herself had attended several competitions and knew exactly how long they lasted, between formal greetings and useless speeches. However, as the sun went down and Vegeta and the others didn’t appear, her plans to seduce him with her coquetries began to fall on the floor.Her disappointment quickly became boredom. And she began to think seriously about teaching Nathalie how to play chess for entertainment until they returned. It wasn’t until she saw Yamcha return with Storm that she quickly descended the stairs to meet him. It was strange that Vegeta wasn’t accompanying him, nor him, nor the rest of the employees returning to the mansion.When leaving by the front door her enthusiasm vanished. The dismayed faces of Vegeta's employees were too obvious to ignore. They all stopped when they saw Bulma running towards them, although she slowed down when she noticed the anguish in their eyes.There was a stain on Yamcha's clothes that quickly caught her attention and he tried to hide it in vain. Bulma approached alertly and removed his hands from his shirt.

“You're okay?!”

"No... it's not mine," he answered with difficulty.

Yamcha saw a fear born in the celestial glance of Bulma and after meditating it for an instant he took her by the shoulders. He remembered that moment when she was taking care of the count with such concern that it squeezed him inside and knew that the news he would share with her would probably destroy her.

“Bulma... The count had an accident in the competition...”

“What kind of accident?” she said quickly. “Where is he?” she asked, turning around, as if he were about to arrive at the mansion.

“In the hospital. He fell off his horse and...”

“You have to take me!” she exclaimed, taking Yamcha's chemise between her hands.

“Calm down... he's with Tarble. The family doctor had just arrived when I left.”

“Yamcha, you are going to take me right now,” she ordered with a frown, still wrinkling his shirt. “If you don’t do it, I will go myself and if something happens to me it will be your fault. Vegeta is going to hang you if he finds out you left me alone!”

The groom gave a weary sigh and then smiled faintly. Selfishly he imagined that she loved him with such fervor, but deep down he knew it was impossible. Then he turned to his companions and nodded. He couldn’t deny her the chance to be with the man she loved, even if it wasn’t him.

The hospital looked gloomy, but Bulma ignored it completely. She had already asked Yamcha in which room Vegeta was and at the same moment the carriage stopped. Bulma left him without a word and ran pushing the door to pass. Yamcha couldn’t do anything to stop her, although he would have liked to be able to accompany her and reassure her on the way  but he was forced to stay by the carriage.

Bulma hadn’t been able to get much information from Yamcha about what had happened, surely avoiding sharing some information with her so as not to disturb her more than she already was. She climbed the stairs and followed the directions to his room, and when she turned around in a corridor she saw Tarble talking with his doctor.Tarble's gaze disturbed her terribly and the way in which the doctor seemed to be constantly denying made her tremble. That image brought to her memory the way in which his family's doctor had told her that her father had only a few hours left to live. Lips clenched, sad look and face crestfallen. The whole scene had impregnated the essence of bad news.Suddenly she feared what she might hear and was about to back down. Unsure of being able to hear that Vegeta had died. Her heart stopped inside her chest, a pain swirled in her stomach and she took a breath before taking another step in his direction. Trying to regain her composure, she thought about him. Vegeta was the strongest man she had ever met, Vegeta couldn’t be dead. He was alive, he had to be.He walked again in his direction as the doctor walked away and saw Tarble fall against the wall. His lost gaze ripped her in the depths and she tried to control the fear. She closed her eyes tightly for a moment and continued.

“Tarble!” she exclaimed and he, confused, looked up. “What happened? How is Vegeta?”

“I... I don’t know, they said he fell off the horse, but he...”

“That's impossible, he couldn’t have fallen!” She looked at the door and after confirming that it was his, she hurried over the doorknob.

"Wait..." he said in a low voice. “He…”

“What happened to him?”

“The doctor says he is in a comatose state. He doesn’t respond to any stimulus, he is unconscious... but we don’t know if he will wake up, or when. And if he wakes up, it is very likely to have serious consequences.”

“But he is alive.”

“Yes... he is alive.”

Fearing the image she would find inside that room, she steeled herself and pushed open the door. An uncontrollable force hit her chest, her ribs hurt. His face was covered in bandages, but she could still see clearly his manly face. She approached slowly and behind her, Tarble stood by the doorframe, squeezing his jacket between his hands. Bulma went around her bed and touched the white sheets with her fingertips and felt as if she was living one of her nightmares again, although she had never experienced such a horrible one. Once next to him she looked into his eyes, he had a scratch on the cheek that could barely be seen. His hair was very messy and smelled of blood. Bulma crouched down and was relieved to hear the sound of his breathing.

"It cannot be... this doesn’t make sense..." she said without thinking.

"I think..." Tarble began, doubt in the tone of his voice, "I think someone cut Storm's reins."

She heard his words, but it took a while to fall into them and their true meaning. She was lost in him and what she really didn’t understand was why life could be so unfair. Why, when she was so close to him, was life trying to take him away from her so cruelly? She stroked his cheek and felt his warm skin beneath the tips of her fingers. After barely assimilating that what was happening was real, she considered Tarble's words and turned to him confused.

“What did you say?”

"Um..." he murmured and closed the door discreetly. “I think someone cut the reins to make him fall off his horse.”

“Who would do that?”

“I don’t know...” Tarble said while thinking. “Maybe... No, it can’t be.”

“Tell me, I want to know who is responsible for this.”

“One of our cousins spoke with me today... He spoke about my father's inheritance and one could say that he threatened to take it.”

“That doesn’t make sense, Tarble. How would he do it? If something happened to Vegeta, you would inherit it.”

“Not exactly... I would only inherit the nobility title. But as for the goods... my father ordered a clause in his will. I think he was so worried that Vegeta never married that he thought he could force him to do so, he ruled that if he doesn’t get married and has an heir for his next birthday, the family assets will go to the next one in line that does comply with those requirements. I mean... my political cousin.”

“Do you really think he would be capable?”

“I don’t know, but it's the only one that comes to mind.”

Bulma took a chair and sat down next to the count, without losing sight of him, she sat there and remembered that Yamcha was still waiting for her at the entrance to the hospital.

“I'll stay with him tonight, if you want you can come back to the mansion. Yamcha has a carriage waiting for me downstairs.”

“No... I'll stay too. I want to be here when he wakes up.”

She smiled as it came to her mind when he left her taking care of his brother in his mansion. Tarble was really worried and was palpable in his gaze. He sat on a terse couch at the foot of the bed. Tarble's first words came back and she imagined all sorts of consequences he might suffer. Vegeta had suffered too many injuries in a very short time and that worried her too much. If so, maybe he would need assistance permanently and without a doubt she knew that she was willing to assume it. As he had taken a terrible risk in covering up her crime. Vegeta was strong and that made her believe that he would survive and that maybe, at any moment he would open his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, now we know why were Vegeta and Tarble arguing in the first chapter. I want to finish translating everything in the next 10 days, so I can focus on the ending. I hope you like it, still 12 chapters to transalte. Thank you so much for the kudos and comments! You make my day!


	21. Chapter XXI

* * *

**IN YOUR HANDS**

* * *

 

**Chapter**

-XXI-

* * *

 

Two days passed without reaction from Vegeta. His body remained inert, shaken sporadically by his breathing. Slight spasms at the tips of his fingers transformed into the hope that soon he would wake up, however, the doctors informed them that it was something normal given the count's case.

Bulma left his side on few occasions, to eat something or go to the bathroom. And every time she turned away from him, she did it with fear that he would wake up and realize that she wasn’t with him. And although Tarble was constantly meditating on the most terrible scenarios that could happen in the future for his brother, Bulma's enthusiasm didn’t allow him to decay. It was impossible to remain in a negative idea for too long when hearing her think aloud about everything they had to do when Vegeta woke up.

Tarble spent some time meditating on his mother’s death, which had affected him terribly. And suddenly the idea that he could lose Vegeta in his next blink, became the most terrible possibility. One that he had never considered before.

While he was thinking about that ominous day in which his mother had died, the horrible sensation of an intense pain spreading inside him again invaded him. His mother had been most affectionate with him, while for Vegeta there were only reproaches and furious looks. At times she despised him so much that he thought his brother was right and maybe they weren’t really brothers. He wasn’t like Vegeta, who looked like a tracing of his father. He was more like her. He had almond-shaped eyes and clear skin. And if his appearance wasn’t enough to hold the doubt, her affection was, compared to the terrible indifference she felt for her husband and her firstborn. Probably he could never get an answer to that doubt, but even if he were not his father's son, he would always be Vegeta's brother. And although he detested him, he could never feel the same for him.

All the scorn he had done to him, mostly in his youth, had slowly turned into the relationship they had now. And perhaps anyone could say that they simply put up with each other, but Tarble had discovered that it was something else. Maybe it was the idea of losing him that made him think so much about what he really felt for his older brother. Or maybe it was the love he had discovered on Bulma's part that made him think that Vegeta was more than what reach the eye.

He was so confident that his presence in his life would be eternal, that he never considered what would happen if he weren’t present. Only two days had passed and the idea of losing him would not only bring him a grief that he had never considered, but at the same time he would have to take his place in the family and take over all the responsibilities that fell on the count. Those that he was so happy not to have and the biggest reason to push him to get married. If he was sure of anything, it was that he did not want the responsibility. He didn’t want to be forced to marry for the sole purpose of keeping his fortune and that of all his relatives in consequence. His head hurt just thinking about the arrangements he should make if Vegeta didn’t wake up again. And at the same time, he felt an immeasurable guilt of just having those thoughts.

Bulma had become part of the furniture. Every time she retired from the room she did so reluctantly and at Tarble's insistence, and every time she came back she was anxious to see him awake. She had slept in that uncomfortable chair next to Vegeta's bed for the last two nights and although she didn’t complain he saw her stretch constantly, struggling with the knots that formed between her muscles.

During the afternoon, Tarble had left the room to talk with one of the doctors who was closely following his brother's case. Bulma looked terribly anxious to participate in the conversation, however, it wasn’t her place. Since it was nothing more than a partner of Vegeta, although it was more than evident that they were something else.

When he finished, he returned to the room and found her sitting next to his brother, as always. She looked at him carefully waiting for him to give her some good news. Tarble pursed his lips and saw his brother, prostrate in that hospital bed and then turned his gaze to Bulma's demanding eyes.

“And?”

“They say that, since he hasn’t shown any progress, it would be best to take him home. The family doctor will see he, and we'll wait for him to wake up there...”

“He will. Your brother is the strongest man I know.”

"He is..." he said, and although he tried to match her expectations, a certain bitterness was felt in his tone. “You should go to the mansion and prepare everything for his return. The hospital will handle the transfer.”

“It's okay. I'll take care of it,” she said, standing up.

As Bulma left the room, Tarble addressed her once more.

“Thank you, Bulma, for everything you've done for my brother.”

“Don't worry, Tarble. He will be fine, I know.”

He envied her security without knowing that deep down lay a terrified woman with a crushed heart, who simply repeated things she wanted to believe. She wasn’t going to allow herself to be weak when he needed her the most. She had promised to be by his side and wait for him to return and smile sideways as usual. And maybe, she would tell him that she loved him and that if everything that had happened didn’t serve to show that they should be together, what would do?

She returned to the mansion and immediately put the staff at her disposal, as if she were the owner of the mansion. And, strangely enough, the staff responded to her without a doubt.

Bulma climbed the stairs to the count's room and ran some furniture to facilitate the entrance to the orderlies. She was so focused on Vegeta's needs that she didn’t notice when Nathalie came in behind her.

“Bulma...” she said cautiously.

"Good thing you're here, help me move this table," she replied, barely looking over her shoulder in a fleeting way.

Nathalie approached with some caution and after helping her she watched her analyze the room and then walk firmly to the bathroom.

"They told me they’ll bring the count," she began. “Is he getting better?”

“He’s still unconscious, but they’ll bring him anyway.”

“Bulma, are you okay? You look terrible,” she said as she watched her walk the room from one end to the other.

“I haven’t slept much during the last days.”

“Why don’t you take a seat for a moment? I'm sure everything will be ready for him when he gets here.”

Bulma looked around and glanced at herself in a mirror hanging on the wall. Two dark bags adorned her eyes, her eyes ruled and her creamy skin paler than usual.

“Forgive me, Nathalie. It has been a difficult day.”

"I can tell... sit down," she invited, sitting down on the count's bed. She agreed reluctantly, uncomfortable to just take a break. She felt guilty despite not knowing exactly what she should be doing to help Vegeta. “I heard that... maybe it wasn’t an accident.”

“Who told you that?”

“The stable boys saw the reins of the horse. Yamcha wasn’t in charge of checking them?”

Something in Nathalie's tone bothered her. It seemed to be establishing an impossible connection between Yamcha and what had happened with Vegeta. Disconcerted, she looked into her eyes without believing what she was hearing.

“What are you insinuating?”

“Bulma, have you not noticed the way he looks at you? You have to be blind not to know that he feels something for you.”

“And what that has to do whit what happed to Vegeta? It doesn’t prove that he has done something wrong.”

“What if he wants to get rid of the count so you can have eyes for him?”

“Impossible! Nathalie, you're saying barbarities. I cannot believe it!”

“Easy, it's just a theory. It could have been his brother, they told me they never got along quite well. If the count dies, he would inherit everything.”

“Vegeta is not going to die! Don’t ever say that again.”

“I’m sorry!”

“Nathalie, leave me alone please.”

“Bulma, it wasn’t my intention.”

“I don’t want to hear you. Leave me, please!”

“Okay, I'm just telling you to keep your eyes open. You don’t know who was the culprit and I don’t want them to hurt you too.”

Nathalie's last words roamed in her mind. She felt them poisonous, unthinkable. And yet she considered them without realizing it. She wasn’t blind to Yamcha's feelings, she knew well that the boy felt something for her. But just thinking that he would be able to clean Vegeta out of the way gave her the creeps. Maybe that would be something more of Black's style, and not someone like Yamcha. In spite of this, it still didn’t make sense that he hadn’t noticed the state of Storm's reins and that slowly fed her doubts.

She tried to shake that idea and kept preparing everything for Vegeta's arrival, then went down to the hall and stayed there waiting for him. The cravings she felt made her tremble inside and she crossed her arms trying to silence the reflections of her body. As she looked out the window she saw Raditz walking along the sidewalk and approaching the door. She watched him look over his shoulder a couple of times before turning in front of the door, as if afraid that someone was watching him. It reminded herself when she came back from the library feeling someone walking on her steps. Before knocking, Bulma had opened the door for him and watched him with a frown. His expression was strange, he looked nervous and uncomfortable. His hands were in the pockets of his pants and he looked into her eyes without saying anything.

“Are you going to come in?” Bulma asked in a monotonous tone.

"Hello... I knew what happened to Vegeta," he said and then scratched the back of his neck, feeling even more uncomfortable. “Is he here?”

“No, but he will come in a moment. Come on in.”

Raditz came in and stood by the door. Bulma remained with her arms crossed, his threats were still very fresh and because of her appearance he knew it.

“How is your brother?” she asked, trying to make the meeting less uncomfortable.

“Well... My mother had a bad time when they raided our house, but as expected, they found nothing.”

"Not here either..." she added in a low voice. The silence that surrounded them became practically palpable and Bulma decided to continue. “I guess you know that Vegeta is unconscious.”

“Yes, that's what I wanted to talk about.”

“Take a seat, there are also some things I would like to ask you. Can I serve you a cup of tea?”

“I would prefer something stronger.”

“Wow... so early?”

“I suppose the conversation deserves it.”

Bulma went to the little bar and took an engraved crystal glass. While holding the glass between her hands, she remained silent. She had seen all her life men drink together, to have a good time in a gentleman meetings or social events. And many others, in the most stressful moments. She firmly took a second glass from the bar and took a bottle with a black label with gold letters.

“Cognac?”

“Sounds good.”

Raditz watched her from a distance as Bulma poured the amber liquid into their glasses, with a slight expression of surprise. Then she walked to him and handed it to him. He sat not far away and put the glass under his nose and inhaled its aroma.

“I did not know you drank.”

“I don’t, but I guess the occasion warrants it. Now, what did you want to talk about?”

He clenched his jaw and then took a long sip of cognac. After drinking half a measure, she rested his elbows on his knees as if trying to get closer to her. He scanned the surroundings for curious ears, and when he was sure they were alone, he continued in a low voice.

“Do you think what happened to Vegeta is a coincidence?”

Bulma felt her body tremble once more as she heard his words. She took a sip from his glass and held his gaze with imposing firmness.

“Vegeta is an excellent rider.”

“You and I know that he would never have fallen off that damned horse.”

“Tarble told me that the reins were broken. I haven’t talked to the groom yet, but I'm sure everything was fine when they left here.”

“I'm sure Zamas has something to do with this. Vegeta made a fool of himself at the last dance, everyone knows it. It’s crazy that he had been invited to another event. It was a trap.”

“Black's partner?”

“Of course, those two always had a strange relationship. Where Black was, there was Zamas. He was like his shadow. He must be furious that they didn’t find anything in the raids of the biggest suspects in Black's disappearance. Without him, all his businesses must be falling apart.”

“Do you think your brother is also in danger?”

“I don’t know, I've been very close to him during the last days. And my mother has practically locked him up at home since all this scandal started. He's just gone out to see Bardock...”

“If his goal was to kill Vegeta he must be furious.”

“Maybe he’ll try again until succeed...”

Bulma took a second sip. Raditz's reassurance about her words unnerved her, and terrible images came to mind. She drank the cognac until ahe saw the empty bottom of her glass and remained silent.

“Now that we are alone, I would like to ask you. What exactly do you do for Vegeta?”

He could not hide his surprise, and after processing that question released a sinister smile. He looked at the empty glass in his hands and then gave her a dark look.

“I don’t know if I should discuss that with you. After all, you're only Vegeta's partner.”

His words hurt her like a crush on her belly, and although she wanted to scream at him to get out of that house, she knew that in the end he was right. Vegeta had always been terribly confidential with his business, especially the unofficial ones. She tried to remain calm, though she couldn’t help frowning noticeably. Raditz watched her expression with cynicism and smiled again. He got up from his seat and walked to the bar for a second drink. Bulma looked at his journey still resenting his words.

“At least you can tell me how you two met?” she continued, trying awkwardly to disguise her tone, for a more eclectic one.

He seemed to remember that event with amusement. He looked up, as if recalling his experiences and narrowed an even wider smile.

"I suppose so..." Patiently poured his second shot of cognac and put a hand inside his pocket, with a very casual air that managed to unnerve Bulma.

“When I was young I had the habit of... getting in trouble. I guess you don’t know how we live, the people of the lowest class, maybe you think you know. But I doubt very much that you have known the most decadent circles in which I used to be involved. You see... in my... circle, there was something we called _The butcher’s shop_. In the ugliest part of the city, a group of wealthy idiots paid us to fight. They liked to see us fighting until one of us fell to the floor, and if he was lucky he still breathed. I was one of the best before I retired. And thanks to that I won several dangerous enemies... At that time Vegeta was also quite... problematic. His father didn’t know how to keep it under control,” he laughed and looked at Bulma hoping to arouse some reaction with what he would say next. “Vegeta got involved with married women, and I suppose you'll understand why he won a couple of detractors at that moment...” His mocking tune managed to enervate her even more. “To summarize, one night, after a fight, a group of assholes decided that they had already had enough of me and they ambushed me. It wasn’t a fair fight, there were twenty of them against me. I had to run and on the way I met him. Imagine how a group of poor, starving people feel when they meet a little nobleman whose shirt was worth more than his damned lives. They saw it as if they had taken out the lottery... He quickly realized that we were together on that ship, even if we didn’t know each other. They had us cornered… At that moment I thought that, if I left that little idiot alive in his luxurious mansion, some other idiot noble would give me a juicy reward. We just left there crawling. Although I was surprised at how well that cretin fought. I guess we both saved our lives, and after that I started working for his father. And then for him, when Vegeta the third died.”

Raditz’s last words dragged a bit of bitterness. And although Bulma had been bothered by Vegeta's fondness for married women, she managed to shake off that feeling by listening to the rest of the man's story, at least for now. She wanted to ask him some more questions but suddenly he left his glass over the bar and looked at the window. She saw him hold his breath and Bulma turned and saw the ambulance arrive and immediately left her glass to run to the door. The stretcher-bearers were the first to enter and Bulma indicated the location of his bedroom. Fortunately, the stairs were quite spacious, Bulma thought.

Raditz completely changed his expression when he saw Vegeta motionless with his face wrapped in bandages. He remained petrified until he was out of sight and then tried to regain his composure, drinking once more.

Tarble entered the mansion and saw them both, one by one. Then he noted with disdain a half-drunk glass on the table, which Bulma had apparently completely forgotten. Quickly an intolerable idea formed in his mind. She, drinking along with another man while her brother lay unconscious on the first floor. Where was all of that woman’s modesty?

“Can I help you with something?” He questioned Raditz, his eyes piercing the glass he carried in his hands.

"Thank you, but the lady explained the situation to me," he said, leaving behind his drink.

“Then you can retire now. We are waiting for the family doctor, as you can see it is not the best time for a social visit. We will let you know when Vegeta wakes up and can talk to you.”

“Don't worry, tomorrow I'll check on him again. If he still don’t wakes up, Miss Briefs can evacuate my doubts.”

The giant man soon vacated the room, and Tarble held the handle to close the door once he was out. Then he looked at Bulma, who had been left in the middle of that crossword, without objecting at all.

His gaze decreed something she had not yet understood, though it took a few seconds to probe that look to imagine what he might be scheming. Indignation was present in her face, but Tarble chose to ignore her and climb the stairs to accompany Vegeta to make sure everything was fine. Her steps followed him closely and they ended up together once more in the count's room. He could feel the angry presence of Bulma behind her back, but she was the least of his problems at that moment.Vegeta had already been deposited on his bed by the time they two arrived. Bulma ran to his side and began to put the sheets over him, and then she adjusted his pillow. Tarble noticed that she had left a chair on the side of the bed, just as she had done in the hospital. And her intentions were clear.Tarble said goodbye to the hospital staff and prepared to accompany them to the exit, still carrying with him some newly discovered resentment.

Bulma sat down beside the count's bed and caressed his forehead delicately. Despite not having spent more than two hours away from him, she felt her skin scream in agony at being near him. It reassured her at least to be able to clearly hear his breathing, calm and slow. He seemed calm.

Tarble returned a few minutes later and stood under the door frame watching Bulma caress his brother's hair.

"I understand that... you have a special relationship with Vegeta," he began, unable to contain the thoughts that were lashing him. “I've seen it several times. From the moment you came to this house to work with him, he has allowed you things that even he would not have allowed me, even in a million years. I get it. And you were right that time, when you told me that he was my responsibility... It is, and I remind you that while Vegeta is in this state I am responsible for both his health and this mansion.”

Bulma listened cautiously to his words and the way he expressed himself seemed contemptible. Once again she was reminded that she lacked any kind of right over him, and the dagger that Raditz had stuck into her was sinking deeper and deeper into her chest.

“I appreciate your help, without you I couldn’t have sleep the last nights. But don’t take the audacity to receive his guests, or give them the explanations that I should give to his employees. That is my job, not yours. Don’t forget.”

“Raditz wanted to talk to me. If he had wanted to talk to you he would have waited for you.”

“And what did he want to talk about?”

“Since we are putting a limit to our relationship, I remind you that I am not an employee of Vegeta. I am his partner, and I live here. I have the right to receive whoever I want.”

“I hope Vegeta wakes up soon, so you can explain it to him personally.”

She stopped seeing him directly and turned to Vegeta again. She knew very well that she couldn’t share that information with Tarble and she feared that he misinterpreted Raditz's intentions by wanting to talk to her alone. She understood perfectly the responsibility that fell directly on him, however, her skin boiled just knowing that she had no rights whatsoever about what happened with Vegeta from now on. Tarble had made it clear. And she had no choice but to sit and wait until he came to himself, praying that his physical and mental integrity hadn’t been affected.

"Understood," she finished briefly without a card in her favor that she could use to refute his words.

"The family doctor won’t take long, and I've hired a nurse to help us. We don’t know how long he can be like this and we have to take care of his hygiene.”

“Vegeta will hate you for it. You know that, right?” she added looking at his dark eyes.

"Vegeta hated me for less." When he said those words she remained static, her face puzzled.

A tiny spasm in the earl's fingers captured his attention immediately and Bulma, with the same feeling of anxiety turned to see his hands. His forearm contracted and then his brow furrowed softly. Inside her the uncertainty increased and she held her breath completely. A tremor shook him and although she had already seen him shake slightly while he slept, this was different.

"He's reacting..." Bulma whispered and fell on him. “Vegeta, wake up, we're here. Vegeta!” She could not contain her emotion and came closer to him begging him to come to himself.

He opened his mouth and a dry sound came out of his throat, scraping his tongue. A guttural sigh vibrated inside his throat, shaking his diaphragm. Slowly he opened his eyes, barely parting his lashes. His onyx pupil reflected the sun's rays with incredible discomfort and his uneasy frown disturbed.

“Wa...” he began with great difficulty.

“Wa?...” The younger asked himself. "Water?” He finished, approaching quickly.

Bulma's hands trembled as she approached the small pitcher by the bed and clumsily poured a glass for him. His hands barely moved, so she held the glass up to his lips and gently tilted it so he could swallow some liquid effortlessly.

Tarble knelt on the bed and tried to tilt his back, slightly numb, so he could drink. The Count's arm rose awkwardly to hold the glass and each sip seemed more desperate. When he finished; he coughed copiously and with great effort he sat up on the bed. Bulma widened a smile, on the verge of tears and saw Tarble share her joy, forgetting completely what had happened moments ago.

"Open the curtains..." Vegeta said in a slow and painful tone.

Bulma ran out of air. Her joy quickly transformed into unease when she heard that tragic request. Both remained stunned. Stunned and reluctant to answer, since, in fact, the curtains were fully open.

"Um... Vegeta... the curtains are open..." Tarble finally answered and with fear heard his brother's words.

“Then... light a lamp.”

Stunned, Bulma raised a trembling hand to Vegeta's face. Not without first turning to Tarble with complicity, knowing that his fears were the same. His eyes were barely open and his pupils were directed at the foot of the bed. Bulma reached out her terrified hand and rocked it slowly in front of him, but there was no reaction. Immediately she held her breath and took the same hand to her lips, containing a terrible reaction. Vegeta was blind.

Tarble didn’t know what to say to his brother, and while Bulma barely seemed to be recovering from that horrifying discovery, he knew that it would be impossible to hide the truth from him, not for long.

“Vegeta... it's daytime.”

He blinked. He felt the tired skin of his eyelids close several times and although he heard Tarble's words he remained motionless and terribly tired. After a moment he stroked his face and discovered part of his head wrapped between several bandages and smelt the stench of his own blood. He scratched the back of his neck and found under his fingers a wound that was beginning to heal. He turned his hand to his face and tried to see if there was blood under his fingers but, despite feeling the ferrous stench he couldn’t see his own limbs.

Bulma saw the dried blood under his nails, unable to say out loud what was evident.After a few seconds Tarble's voice began to make sense and little by little he remembered the last thing he had seen before closing his eyes. He was going to jump over a small obstacle, mounted on Storm’s back, when the reins were loosened and the last thing he heard was the squeaking of the animal and everything became darkness. And it remained that way.

 _It’s daytime_ , he listened again inside and began to fall slowly in what those words implied.He blinked once more, again and again. He could feel the skin closing and he knew that his hands were in front of his face, but he couldn’t see them.He couldn't see anything.

He raised his face trying to recognize something, but there was nothing but an immense and endless darkness. As if he were under an infinite shadow. Locked in an overwhelming darkness, Vegeta heard the voices of Bulma and his brother next to him, although he couldn’t recognize their faces. He extended his hands and felt the fabric under the tips of his fingers, but he couldn’t see it. His heart suddenly began to gallop wildly inside his chest, his skin became cold and his breath quickened terribly. The air began to fade from his body and all he could hear was the rumble of his pulse over his throat.I needed to get out of there, get away even if he didn’t even know where he was sitting. His body cried out for cold air and some gust of wind. He wanted to get out of bed, extended a leg and felt the wood under his foot, but when he tried to stand he felt his muscles tremble like never before and he fell quickly to the ground. He was shocked by the terrible reality that he still didn’t finish assimilating.He felt the blow and the wood against his cheek and heard Bulma scream at the top of her lungs for a doctor.

He blinked again, and each time he did he seemed to try harder, and he hoped that in the next he would begin to recognize the silhouettes of his surroundings. But, although he tried repeatedly, nothing seemed to alter the darkness in which he was submerged. Some hands took him by the chest and felt the touch on his bare skin. Only then did he realize that he wasn’t wearing a shirt, and he felt the cloth of his pants on his legs. He didn’t even have shoes and stretched just the tip of his toes, desperate to make sure he wasn’t paralyzed.

"Let go of me," he said nervously. “Get off me!”

"It's me," said Tarble's trembling voice, and he knew his face was right in front of him.He had never tried so hard to move and didn’t know if he had lost mobility, or had only been asleep for a long time. Tenebrous questions rushed over his mind and made him tremble. He didn’t know how much time had passed, or where was he. He only knew that he couldn’t see anything at all and could not even use his body properly. His muscles trembled with such fragility that disturbed him to the deepest. His breathing accelerated like that of a wild beast that was in danger.

“I told you to get off me!” He shouted and with the little strength he managed to muster he threw a punch that managed to hit his brother’s face.

Tarble fell flat on the ground and Vegeta fell again, although this time he had managed to fall on his arms. Crouched on his elbows he tried to stand up although his muscles seemed reluctant to cooperate.

“Vegeta, please calm down!” Bulma begged and he could feel her soft hands brush against his back.

His arms still trembled as he tried to stand in the darkness, and while mentally denying what he was living, he blinked countless times with remarkable desperation. He extended a hand to his face and pressed it against his head, he took the bandages covering his face and pulled them away. Then he hit his arm against a piece of furniture that was very close to him and hurried to use it to stand up. In a short time he had bathed in cold sweat and breathed like an animal caught in a deadly trap. He heard other voices approaching and people running up to him, he was so exalted that he took an object from the table and threw it with towards those steps. He didn’t want anyone to see him in that state and he didn’t manage to control his exaltation.

The glass jar flew to the door and Tarble and Bulma covered themselves so as not to be damaged in the impact. Glass exploded in all directions and before he could take anything else, someone unknown had managed to hold him in the back. The only thing that came out of Vegeta's mouth was that they let him go.

Bulma watched the terrible scene from a corner. Fortunately Raditz had returned, although Vegeta was noticeably weak, she didn’t think anyone could face him in that unbridled state more than he did. The family doctor had arrived right behind him and they entered the mansion when they heard Bulma's screams. While Vegeta was being held by Raditz, Tarble approached the doctor to explain what was happening.

"He just woke up... We don’t know what's happening to him.”

“I have to examine him, I won’t be able to do it while he is like that. We have to retain him in some way. I suggest we tie him to the bed...”

“Tie him up?” Bulma asked with a horrifying expression. “No way! He’s not an animal, he just needs a moment to calm down.”

Tarble looked at his brother, struggling to get rid of the grip of the other giant as he shouted loudly that he would kill him and anyone who dared to lay a hand on him.

"We will," Tarble said.

"Miss, I'll ask you to stay out of the room.”

A young nurse appeared in front of her and with a gesture invited her to leave. Bulma clenched her fists and walked on the other side of the door, despite an uncontrollable force screaming at her from inside that she didn’t move away from his side. She remained there when she saw the door closed, close enough to hear Vegeta's screams and contain the desire to send all of them to hell. She hated herself for allowing that barbarity to happen. She could listen to the doctor's instructions, holding Vegeta to the ends of the bed. And after a couple of minutes, she ended up sitting on the floor waiting for the door to open. A few minutes later Vegeta stopped stunning them with his screams until the only voices that were heard inside were those of the doctor and Tarble's, but she couldn’t distinguish anything important between their whispers. By the time the door finally opened the door, the first one to leave was Raditz. Bulma hurried over him and took his arm urgently.

“What happened? How is he? What did the doctor say?”

Raditz let out a sigh and looked back.

“I was asked to leave the room for the doctor to speak privately with Table. They sedated him, now he’s asleep.”

“Then they tied him to the bed, and you helped them.”

“You yourself saw how he was, acting out of himself. They fear that when he wake up he will do it again.”

She crossed her arms, outraged by Tarble's decisions.

“I thought that you were gone.”

“I was outside when the doctor arrived, talked with a girl. Nathalie? I think that was her name.”

“You don’t waste your time, do you? Okay, I guess you can go now. Thanks for the help, if you can call that help. Vegeta will be furious.”

“I don’t doubt it, but he owed me one.”

“Then you can give your debt as paid.”

“I believe that he has a big debt with me. Anyway, we'll see soon, Bulma.”

“Good bye, Raditz.”

Although she hadn’t confirmed what she thought was going on with Vegeta, she doubted that the diagnosis was different. She couldn’t imagine how he would feel when he woke up and discovered that he couldn’t see. She understood his anguish and in a certain way she shared it. It reassured her a little to know that he had gone back to sleep, but in a short time he would wake up to find himself tied to his own bed, and without being able to see what was around him. It seemed an extremely traumatic way to wake up after so many days and she made a decision that she knew Tarble would condemn. But he couldn’t do anything about it and she was totally willing to deal with the consequences.

After a few minutes, the doctor and his nurse finally left the room with Tarble.

"I'll come tomorrow morning first thing," he said to Tarble and then politely said goodbye to Bulma.

Surprised, she watched the nurse still with them, while the doctor came down the stairs.

“And?” She asked anxiously.

“Bulma. She is Veros, she will be in charge of assisting Vegeta until he recovers.”

Perplexed, she opened her lips and denied.

"Vegeta has already awakened," she said firmly.

“I know, but until he calms down we cannot be sure he will not need medical assistance.”

“What did the doctor tell you?”

He hesitated, not because he wasn’t sure about what he was going to say, but because he hated the diagnosis he had been given.

“He’s blind... it can be temporary or permanent. We will only know that with time.”

When her greatest fear was confirmed, she remained silent for a moment and didn’t know how to respond to that terrible diagnosis.

"He will recover," she answered, but in her voice was no longer so secure, her tone wasn’t the same she had while Vegeta remained asleep. She seemed to say it more to convince herself, than by real conviction.

“I'm going to... tell Veros what her room will be. Vegeta is asleep, the doctor said it will take several hours to wake up. We'd better eat and rest, if he wakes up in the middle of the night I doubt we can sleep.”Tarble and the nurse withdrew. And while Bulma waited for them to be far enough away she wondered what would happen if Vegeta woke up and found himself unable to move. What terrible thoughts would pass through his mind to be completely disabled. Maybe he could come to believe that he was invalid. And if he could reason enough to realize he was tied up, would he feel betrayed by her for not stopping them?Nothing could be worse for her than to let Vegeta think that she had abandoned him in such a terrible moment. So, without further questioning, she walked to her room and rummaged through her drawers until she found a pair of scissors. Then she retraced her steps and entered the Count's bedroom, looking permanently over her shoulder. She discreetly closed the door and walked softly to him, fearing to be discovered.The image of him with his limbs tied to the edges of the bed squeezed her stomach and there was no doubt in her mind. She had to release him and endure the storm that would come later. Slowly, fearing to wake him up, she cut Vegeta's bonds little by little and tried to disguise it by covering him with the sheets. She closed the curtains in the room and gave him one last look before leaving. Promising mentally that she would be on his side no matter what Tarble had to tell her.

During the afternoon Vegeta remained placidly asleep, thanks to the effects of laudanum. Tarble put the staff at his disposal and invited her to come to the table to share dinner. Of course he didn’t know that every night since she arrived, she dined at that same table with Vegeta. But she didn’t think it appropriate to mention it either. Despite his cordial invitation, she remained almost absent throughout the dinner, constantly thinking about what would happen to Vegeta when he woke up.

The only thing that was heard was the sound of the silverware grinding against the porcelain of the dishes. Bulma could barely take a bite, an uncomfortable feeling inside her stomach kept her restless and expectant. And although she forced herself to continue eating, it seemed that her body could reject everything at any time. It wasn’t until she left her cutlery on the plate that Tarble decided to speak to her.

"I hope you understand why I made the decision I made..." he said, clasping his hands on the table.

“I'm sorry, Tarble. But I don’t share your position. I think it would be worse for Vegeta to wake up without being able to move.”

“I know he wouldn’t approve, and maybe he even banish me after this. But sometimes we must make difficult decisions to preserve those we love. Vegeta threw us a glass jar and I can still feel the punch he gave me in the face. How do you think he would feel about himself having hurt you? I don’t think he could forgive himself, and I'd rather he hates me before I make him go through that, when he has to deal with his blindness too...”

She looked at Tarble's face and saw the red mark he had been ignoring for several hours. Actually, it had been hard for her to look directly at Tarble after disobeying his instructions. Although she had managed to understand the boy's intentions, she didn’t dare mention what she had done. She simply nodded without saying anything and prepared to stand up to retire.

Unsure of what to do to kill time, she wondered if she should seek Nathalie to apologize to her after the small argue they had held in the morning. She knew that she had acted so defensively because it seemed inadmissible that she would even put Yamcha into question, but that didn’t justify the way she had addressed her. As she wandered through the house in search of the brunette, she passed a long corridor surrounded by large windows overlooking the gardens.

From there she could see the horse shed from afar and thought of crossing some words with Yamcha. After all, she still had many doubts that she wanted to clear up. She left and felt the icy breeze on her snowy skin and put her arms around her as she went out into the gardens. She stood on her tiptoe and looked for him among the stables, but couldn’t see him.

The service kitchen door closed and Bulma turned around, finding several stable boys who had just finished dinner. Yamcha didn’t widen a smile like he used to do every time he saw her. But his face, dull and discontented, couldn’t placate Bulma. Her brow furrowed almost instinctively and her lips remained pressed in an immovable line. He approached her little by little, but not before saying goodbye to his companions. Silently he stood in front of her and watched her as if he felt sorry for her. The gesture only managed to exacerbate her even more.

"Hi..." he said timidly. “How are you?”

“Not so good.”

“I knew that the count has awakened... There is a nurse in the house who told us something about it.”

"I suppose Tarble didn’t explain to her how reserved Vegeta is. She shouldn’t talk about his affairs so languidly.”

“I'm very sorry, Bulma. I know this isn’t easy for you either...”

"I've wanted to ask you for days, Yamcha. How did you miss checking his reins before giving Vegeta his horse?”

“I did it! Before leaving everything was perfect.”

“Before leaving!” she shouted, "if you had checked everything again, once again, none of this would have happened! If you had done it maybe Vegeta would not be…”

Yamcha held his breath at the agitation of her white face. Her cheeks had been dyed pink and a storm was coming from her blue eyes. And he couldn’t contain the fervent desire that invaded him and wrapped her in his arms. Bulma stirred from his embrace with fury rising from her insides. She hit him hard in the chest and pulled him away from her.

“Don't you dare put a hand on me!” She bellowed furiously.

“I'm sorry... I should have checked them again...”

“Yes, you should have done it!” she said with a broken voice.

She knew it wasn’t right to hold Yamcha responsible in that way. Bulma even knew that before him, there was someone else directly involved. However, she couldn’t hide the resentment she had been accumulating for the past few days. Perhaps, what bothered her the most was the certainty that they could have avoided that disaster. Or maybe she just needed to blame someone to vent.

While Yamcha stood in front of her, tolerating her outburst, she remembered Nathalie's words and wondered exactly what he felt. She was pretty sure she had not been wrong in saying that he felt something for her. But it was hard to think that he could take advantage of her, he seemed quite shy.

Suddenly, they heard a blast coming from the first floor. Both remained petrified and raised their faces waiting for a second impact. It didn’t take too long, and neither did the third. For the fifth blow, a chair was thrown out the window to fall on a bush. Yamcha covered Bulma of the glasses of the window that left scattered everywhere.

“Oh, no...” Bulma muttered, she wasn’t ready for Vegeta to come to his senses so quickly.

Yamcha looked at her fleetingly and ran out to see what was happening. Bulma tried to keep up with him and on the way she noticed how several of Vegeta's employees were approaching in terror to the count's room. By the time they climbed the stairs, Tarble and Veros were trying to convince the fury Vegeta had become, to take a seat and let himself be examined. But he, with his eyes lost in an uncertain point, fervently demanded that they leave.

"We'll have to sedate him again," the nurse said, and Bulma felt her blood boil.

She couldn’t allow them to perpetuate his unconsciousness simply because they couldn’t control him. And without thinking, she pushed through all of them and before Vegeta could break something else, she held him in her arms.

Vegeta felt that small warm body light on his naked torso. Her cold cheek pressed against his chest and he remained static. He could barely contain the fury he felt at being unable to see his surroundings. But he knew it was her since no other person in the whole world would be so daring.

"Take your hands off me," he said, but the soft tone of his words sounded frightening.

Bulma held him tighter as she saw the nurse approach him. Her mission would have been transformed into becoming a shield between them and him. She felt the sweat of his body under the touch of her hands and the icy breeze coming from the broken window shook them. Vegeta had been asleep for several days and didn’t know for sure how weak he really was. She had to take care of himself before he could get sick. She snuggled against his cold chest and he felt her warm breath caress his skin.

He remained motionless and ambivalent. He desperately wanted to be alone in that torment and at the same time it was impossible for him to get rid of Bulma without exerting violence on her.

“Get out! All of you!” Bulma cried out of herself.

Vegeta heard the roar of her voice and tried to listen carefully to the steps near himself, to determine how many people were watching him. The idea of being surrounded by curious eyes infuriated him. Hungry to be satiated in his misery.

“Go away!” Bulma shouted again. “Leave us alone!”

Tarble saw in Bulma's eyes a terrible overwhelming demand. And although he didn’t want to give in and leave her at the mercy of what Vegeta could do, he tried to trust her for just a moment. He raised a hand to the nurse and gestured for them to retire, including him.

Yamcha was still there, fearing that the count might push Bulma and hurt her. She watched him with a frown. Her blue eyes were demanding that he walk out of there. The boy finished obeying, although reticent, and closed the door to leave them alone. Not without first dedicating a few last words.

“I'll be downstairs if you need me.”

Vegeta heard a few steps away from his room and the sound of the latch that he assumed would be the door closing. Several more steps down the stairs and even in that deep, stormy darkness, he could hear the sound of her breathing. He assumed that by that time they were alone and still, he still wanted Bulma to retire.

"Get off me," he ordered in the same fearsome tone.

“Only if you promise not to continue destroying this room.”

“What I do with my belonging is not your problem. Let go of me or...”

“Or what? Are you going to fire me? If you thought to threaten me with that, I remind you that you cannot fire me. And if you want me to renounce to our agreement, I’ll do it. I quit! But I'm not going to leave.”

“What do you want!?”

“I want you to stop behaving like a madman. If you don’t let anyone examine you, they will drug you again, you are a danger to yourself and to others. You do not realize that if you keep behaving in this way they could lock you up?”

A soft, ironic laugh came from his lips as he listened. His body slightly relaxed. He lowered his chin to his chest as if he could see her, though all he did was face the sound of her voice.

The idea that they could lock him up was ironic, given that at that moment he felt imprisoned by his own inability to see.

“I don’t need you.”

“And I’m not scared of you. This may be temporary, Vegeta... please. Calm down and let me handle it.”

“I'm not disabled!”

“Of course you're not! But if you don’t let a doctor examine you correctly, we may not find a solution to this. You can pay the best professionals in the country, just let them help you. Fucking idiot!”

Vegeta raised his eyebrows, and although his gesture was lost in the darkness his appearance didn’t stop being surprised.

“The only reason I don’t push you is because you're a woman.”

“I do not care what you say, I will not listen to you. I understand how you feel, but I will not allow you to get drugged to keep you quiet. Look at what you have done!” She said enervated and regretted her words. “I didn’t mean that... I mean...”

He laughed and the irony was felt in that guttural sound.

“You think I care?”

“I care! Vegeta, I'm not going to leave you alone in this. Please, trust me…”

The count still felt the tremor of his own legs and he was sure that, if Bulma released him, he would fall painfully on his knees. The idea was terribly humiliating. And when he considered it, he remembered strangely all the humiliations to which he had subjected that woman who held him firmly.

Bulma observed the broken objects around her. The rumpled bed, the broken glass and the closet on the floor with his clothes scattered arround on the floor.

Under her feet she found a small path of glass and blood and noticed his injured feet.

"You're hurt... Please, Vegeta... don’t be stubborn," she pleaded with a broken voice.

The sound of her voice sank deep beneath his chest. What other option did he have? He thought, imagining Bulma's distraught face.

"Fine," he growled.

A warm smile widened on her face and her demanding embrace gave slightly when she heard him.

She wanted to hug him even more and kiss him to ease his grief, but he was so depressed by his circumstances that she ended up suppressing her desire. Instead, little by little she let go and slid her snowy hands down his biceps. Vegeta, unable to observe her expression, sensed her finger tips caressing through his skin to wrap his hands.

“Let's go to my room, so I can check your wounds...”

He felt still reluctant. Unable to take a step forward due to the insecurity generated by his surroundings. Bulma, on the other hand, walked on her back, shaking scattered objects along the way with her feet. Vegeta sensed how she guided him and slowly walked in her footsteps. He felt deeply defeated and in that moment he realized that, from now on, he was in Bulma's hands. There was no other person he could trust in that way and blindly let himself be guided by a path of pure and overwhelming darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've noticed that I have over 100 readers from U.S.A, in my original work. I guess a lot fo you when directly there to read the rest of the story. That's funny lol YOU KNOW ALL THE SPOILERS. Omg, I'm going to be uploading daily from now on, I guess that in a week from now both stories will have the same number of chapters. I surely hope so! Thank you very much for reading my story in two languages hahaha


	22. Chapter XXII

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**IN YOUR HANDS**

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**Chapter**

-XXII-

* * *

 

He hated himself for the terrible need that fell on that woman's hands. Their connected palms were the only way he could follow. Unable to perceive anything other than sounds.

All his life he felt that he knew that mansion like the palm of his hand, every corridor, every room. However, now he realized that he rediscovered every surface he touched. The wet and painful sensation of his feet accompanied him in his wandering walk to Bulma's room, which fortunately was only a hallway away. And the fact that she told him they would go there made him understand that he was in his own house and that gave him a bit of relief.

He imagined the path of his feet crawling through the wood, tracing a degrading route behind him. He imagined the time of day, if it would be night or it would be evening. He thought of that corridor and tried to remember it, every detail, every door, every painting hanging on the wall.

Bulma spoke to him in a sweet and sympathetic tone that barely managed to calm the suffocating fury that filled him. Although at times it stressed him more than it helped. It made him feel like an infant, like a helpless creature in need of protection. He had never experienced something like this in his entire life. This was his greatest humiliation.

When they reached her room she tried to indicate him where to sit and he felt with his hands the bed they had shared the last few nights.

"How long?" He said, trying to contain the anxiety generated by that question. Bulma knew immediately what he was talking about and felt fear in his tone. It was the first time she heard Vegeta's voice waver that way and a knot formed in the pit of her stomach.

“Two days.”

He raised his feet and sat on the bed. It was hardly reassuring to know that it hadn’t been long, but there were no words to share with her.

“You're freezing, I'll go for a medicine cabinet. Please, wait for me here. I'll be right back.”

He had never felt so submissive as when he nodded, waiting for her to return. He couldn’t stop thinking that the terrible condition that he was suffering could be permanent. And while she run out of her room, Vegeta remained stoic. The only thing he was aware of was the simple sound of his breathing and that disturbed him.

He began to wonder how he would do from now on to carry out his own life, and less than that, his every day. Unable to meet the most basic needs, he questioned how willing was he to continue living under this martyrdom. Was  it really worth it?

He had used almost all his energy to destroy his room almost completely and felt drained. He wasn’t sure if it was because of that, or because he had been bedridden for two whole days. His back hurt terribly and his legs continued to tremble, although he was no longer leaning on them. He felt his fingers move slightly, like involuntary spasms, and he wondered if that feeling would also be permanent. If maybe it was due to damage to his brain and he would have to live forever in a body that didn’t seem his.

Everything seemed to be a terrible nightmare from which he couldn’t wake up. His breathing had slowly slowed and now he lay on the mattress waiting for Bulma to come back to help him. It was degrading. A man who all his life had managed to exceed his physical abilities, reduced to a crippling incapacity, impossible to overcome.

While he meditated on his misfortune, Bulma was descending the stairs at full speed, fearing another outburst from the count. She soon noticed that, on the ground floor, Tarble waited with the nurse and Yamcha. The groom gave her a look full of grief that she ignored almost completely. The nurse remained motionless and her conversation with Tarble completely ceased when they saw her.

"I need a medicine cabinet," she said quickly.

“Is he hurt? Veros can help you.”

“I wouldn’t go into that room if I was her.”

The nurse shifted uncomfortably, she had already seen the count throw a chair out the window and feared greatly for her own safety.

"I suppose you're right," Tarble added in a defeated tone.

"I can lend it to you if you need it," the young woman said timidly, relegated from her only function.

“How is he?” Asked Tarble.

“Calmer, he just need some bandages and a little alcohol. I think it would be best to leave him alone tonight. He has had enough. I’ll try to convince him to allow to doctor to examinate him in the morning.”

“I'm going to stay here if you need me. Veros, you can go to rest if you prefer.”

"I'll call you if I need you," Bulma answered, receiving the nurse's briefcase. “I promise. And Yamcha, don’t worry about me, Vegeta won’t not hurt me.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“I am.”She climbed the stairs a little calmer and the small group remained silent unable to withdraw.

When she opened the door she found him in the same position where she had left him and her heart immediately squeezed.

“It's me...” she announced when she entered, but he didn’t answer.

She placed the briefcase on the bed and sat at his feet. She examined himm carefully and the feeling that Vegeta had turned into a simple empty container shocked her.

“I'm going to take out the pieces of glass, it will maybe hurt a little...” she said and took a small clip from the briefcase. Gently she wiped the blood from his feet, which had begun to stain the sheets, and one by one she removed the small pieces of glass from his torn skin. Carefully she placed them on a piece of gauze, and as she pulled them out of his skin, she observed Vegeta's absent expression out of the corner of her eye. His alien and distracted gesture hurt terribly and she imagined the calamities that would be going through his mind. Bulma wasn’t sure what to tell him. On rare occasions she had remained really mute and perhaps in many others she had talked too much. Maybe she could never imagine how he felt, but what she could feel in her own flesh was his impotence. He had come at her worst to rid her of her grief and turn it into his responsibility. He had freed her from a crime that wasn’t his and he had stayed by her side, even though he couldn’t fully understand how she felt. And maybe that was the only thing she could offer him now. Understanding. After cleaning his wounds, she took a cotton ball and bathed it in alcohol. Then she looked at him and tried to ignore his lack of response.

“This is going to burn...” she said and began to gently rub the cotton.

Vegeta's frown barely twisted at the feel of the alcohol burning his wounds and in a way that calmed her down. He was still in there. She kept the nurse's utensils in the briefcase, then wrapped his feet in clean gauze, and did not know exactly what to do next.

“You probably don’t want to sleep... Are you hungry? I can make them prepare something for you.”

“And what will you do then? Will you feed me in the mouth like a child?” He questioned, leaving that absent state.

“Vegeta...”

“I'm not hungry.”

“Fine... just tell me what you want to do...”

“I thought you told me you would take care of everything.”

“I know, but this is also difficult for me. Especially, if you don’t tell me anything.”

“And what do you want me to say? I told you to leave me alone and you weren’t able to obey me. Do you want me to depend on you?”

“No! I just want to help you.”

“Then leave me alone. You can help me with that?”

“You didn’t leave me alone...”

“That’s different.”

“Why? I didn’t ask for your help, you could have left me alone and I could have rot in a cell.”

He couldn’t deny her. It was true, Bulma never said explicitly that he should cover up her crime. He simply considered the most terrible possibilities and began to devise a plan that could leave her free of all that.

"Are you going to recriminate me for helping you?” Asked purring a false laugh.

“I didn’t say that, stop twisting my words...”

Vegeta returned to his sepulchral silence and Bulma remembered with his indifference the coldness of his skin when she embraced him. She got up quickly and he wondered what she was up to. Suddenly he felt a soft, warm cloth on his back. Bulma had sat on her knees next to him, arranging a blanket to cover his naked torso, but he said nothing.

“In the morning the doctor will come to see you again, you must let him examine you. Maybe he’ll give us good news, but you must collaborate.”

The silence perpetuated among them. Bulma felt the distance that he marked as if it were physical. Maybe his past insults hadn’t hurt as much as the current absence from them. It would probably be too early to invade him with optimistic proposals. He must have been thinking deeply in his darkness and she wondered if it really would be best to leave him alone as he had asked. But, though she thought about that possibility, she couldn’t find the strength to get out of bed.

“Who were here?” He asked suddenly.

“Well... a moment ago? When I went up to your room only Tarble and Veros...”

“Who the hell is Veros?”

“Tarble hired a nurse. But don’t worry, she had just arrived.”

“There was someone else. Am I wrong?”

Bulma wondered how he could be so sure of that, but then she remembered Yamcha's words.

_I’ll be downstairs if you need me._

“Yamcha.”

He smiled at the name of the groom.

“Now you have bodyguard?”

“He was just worried. He didn’t want you to hurt me... You threw me a jar this morning.”

Vegeta's mischievous and fuzzy smile vanished in an instant and he returned to the moment when he had woken up the first time. But the memory felt terribly confusing.

"You also punched Tarble. But maybe he deserved it.”

He heard her almost choked laugh but his lips didn’t flinch.

“Did I hurt you?” He questioned in a monotonous tone. His manly voice didn’t seem to be sad or regretful, but Bulma knew that behind that facade was something else.

“You didn’t.”

Vegeta's unwavering countenance seemed an impenetrable shell. Anyone who saw him would think that his apathy was nothing but mere disinterest, but not Bulma.

“I'll go find some clothes so you can get dressed in the morning. Wait here.”

Vegeta almost smiled when he heard her words and imagined where he could escape if he wanted to do it, everything that surrounded him was nothing but endless darkness.

Bulma walked more calmly down the hall, and couldn’t ignore Vegeta's blood scattered on the floorboards. Upon entering his room; she rediscovered his destructive strength and a chill ran through her. The icy air in the room had increased noticeably, the curtains fluttering from the broken window letting in an icy breeze. She took a quick look at the chamber and feared that the beast that lived inside the count could come out again at any moment, although right now he seemed so calm. She wandered slowly among unrecognizable objects and approached the wardrobe that lay on the ground, knocked down. A door had come loose and his shirts flew off their hangers. She took from there a pair that seemed not to have been too wrinkled, and when lifting them from the ground a shine caught her attention. There was a box under his clothes and she found inside it a pair of women's shoes with big golden buckles.

She was surprised. Vegeta didn’t keep his mother's belongings and the few women's dresses that were in that house were in her wardrobe. She lifted them off the ground and with intrigue turned them over, they were her number.

Was it possible that they were for her?

Why would Vegeta buy her shoes to keep them hidden?

Her eyebrows rose up, disturbing her bangs as she recalled an incident that had passed. Vegeta, in a fit, had thrown her broken shoes into the fireplace. She remembered the way the soles of her old shoes had come off and ended up falling on the stairs. His firm arm surrounded her quickly, and in the same way he let her fall. Then he took her shoes furiously, lifting her skirt brazenly. Then he came down the stairs in leaps and bounds and threw her shoes into the fire.

_They're the only ones I have!_

_That's not my problem!_

Her heart squeezed inside her chest, withered. She looked at the shoes again and her eyes blurred. A tear slipped down her cheek and she wondered why she was crying for a pair of shoes. Why was she so afflicted by that hidden gift from its true owner? Deep down, she knew it wasn’t just that. She hadn’t had the chance to mourn Vegeta's accident, much less his current condition. She hadn’t had time to grieve for all the terrible events that seemed to be chasing her, and now, also him.

She fell on the floor holding those shoes in her lap. Then she remembered that she had received Black's gift for her and she supposed that  that could have been the reason that forced him to hide his.

“You are so dumb…”

She didn’t know how, but she had to find a way to tolerate everything that was happening around her. She knew she couldn’t control it, that there was no way to twist her nefarious fate and somehow remedy Vegeta's blindness. As there was no way to stop the investigation that had been left in the background. She had to find strength to continue, for Vegeta, and above all for herself. Although the world seemed to have hit her hardest when she was on the ground, she couldn’t fall down in that battle.

She was strong, she was Bulma.

She wiped her face, but then it seemed silly, since Vegeta wouldn’t see her cry. She looked at the shoes again and a small smile curved the corner of her lips. It was, in some way, the sweetest gesture he had had with her. Maybe, that was the reason why he kept them hidden. He wasn’t sweet, nor affectionate. And after discovering so many things about his past she understood why Vegeta was the way he was. And she didn’t care, she liked how he was, because his character, his strength and because of the way he never seemed to give up. Until now. But Vegeta was there, under that bent and absent man. He was still the detestable count she had known. She should only help him get up as he had done with her.

She stood up with his clothes and the gift that he hadn’t given to her, but that had come to her in some strange way. She retraced her steps and felt better after having shed a few tears. As if she had let out the tempest that lived inside her, enough to continue walking firmly without falling apart.

She entered unannounced and left the clothes hanging for the next day. Left her shoes by the bed and turned to Vegeta.

He heard her enter and walk around the room until she was motionless and without sharing a word. Then she approached and climbed on the bed and he waited surprised, not knowing with certainty what she intended to do. Suddenly she hugged him again and he was perplexed.

“What are you doing?” He asked, he was static.

"I don’t want to leave you alone," she said, wrapping her arms around him.

His face was hidden in the curve of her neck and he felt her warm words on his ear. Her breath made his skin crawl, but he didn’t know how to react to her affectionate gesture.

“If you don’t want to talk to me, I understand. But let me stay by your side.”

He didn’t find words to respond to her request. That plea was different, it was something that had never reached his ears. He knew that Bulma was the kind of woman who couldn’t refuse a challenge, but it was nothing like what they had gone through before. Vegeta recalled all the occasions in which he tried to humiliate her so that she ended up resigning, unable to fulfill his most terrible requests.

"You don’t have to," he said and felt her arms leave him slowly, but she stayed close to him. “You are liberated from this... Everything that happened... If they find something, I won’t involve you. You can leave, I'll give you the money you need to start over.”

“What are you talking about? Do you think I want to stay with you for what happened with Black?”

Vegeta smiled. He listened to Bulma's soft voice in the penury of his mind and tried to imagine her face.

“If this is permanent, I cannot force you to stay here. This is where I draw the limit.”

“Are you leaving me?”

“What? I'm saving you from this.”

“You are not a burden. In any case, I have been a burden for you. If it weren’t for me maybe this would never have happened. If I hadn’t killed Black...”

"Lower your voice," he ordered.

“If that hadn’t happened, you would be fine. I should have left a long time ago, this is my fault.”

“What does that have to do with what is happening now?”

Bulma went silent and Vegeta realized that there was something else that she was intentionally omitting.

“It's the not time to be talking about that, you should rest.”

“Tell me.”

He lifted his chin and faced her voice. Even with absent gaze, Bulma felt the pressure of his mere presence. She was sure that Vegeta should rest, however, she knew him well enough to assume that he wouldn’t stop until he knew what was happening.

“Tarble discovered that someone cut Storm's reins, that's why you fell for him...”

“Do you think it has to do with Black?”

"That's what Raditz thinks, he came here this morning to talk to me before you woke up. He believes that it could have been Zamas, and that perhaps the whole invitation to the equestrian encounter was a trap. Tarble, on the other hand, thinks it was one of your cousins. He said he approached him at the meeting and said something, a kind of threat...”

“Nappa.”

“Anyway, it's not time to think about that. You must concentrate on recovering...”

Vegeta listened to Bulma's words, but somehow he didn’t reflect on them. An internal roar began to be born with extreme desperation. The idea that his condition had been caused by someone else made his blood boil. He was furious and Bulma immediately noticed the way he pressed on his fists.

"I need to know which one of the two is to blame for this," he said in a growl. “Even if I never recover my sight, they will pay for this...”

His threat sounded terrible, cold and severe, full of a resentment made Bulma tremble, and despite that, she managed to understand him completely.

Bulma's warm hand rested on his fists.

“We'll find out. And to do it you must recover your strength... If this was intentional, I swear that we will get to the bottom of the matter. Together.”

“I'm not going to get you involved in this.”

“It's too late for that.”

Afraid that he would close himself again in his impenetrable silence, Bulma took a deep breath and continued.

“Vegeta... if this becomes permanent, you will learn to live with it. Maybe there is no point of comparison between what you are living and what I have lived, but if there is something I have learned is that maybe I can never get rid of what Black tried to do with me. I'll take it with me for the rest of my life, and each day that load will be less heavy, maybe. You didn’t leave me alone at that time, not even now, even that they're on our heels. And I will not let you carry this alone. You can shout a thousand times to get me out of here, but you'll waste your time, because I'm not going to do it.”

“Can I ever have some peace?”

"Maybe not," she replied, smiling at his sly smile.

He barely stroked her words mentally, probably without understanding the strength of her statement. Maybe, unable to notice his true feelings. Refusing to understand what was really happening between them. Perhaps, that way in which she imposed herself before him was nothing more than a gesture of camaraderie for what he had sacrificed for her.

“What time is it?” He asked afterwards, erasing his smile.

“It's late...” she answered and he felt heaviness in her tone. She was tired.

“You should sleep.”

“I can stay awake with you, in case you need something.”

“I don’t want you to do it.”

“Why are you so stubborn?”

“I could ask you exactly the same thing.”

Suddenly he lowered his feet from the bed and seemed to be trying to get up. She stood up quickly and walked around the bed to stand next to him. She tried to take him by the arm to help him, but he raised his hands and an exasperated gesture painted on his face.

“What you're trying to do?!”

“What?! Can I not go to the bathroom without you wanting to take me by the hand like a child?!”

Had he been able to see her face, he would have seen shame coloring her white cheeks. With her lips between open she stammered something in panic and after a few seconds of meditating, she replied.

“It wouldn’t be the first time we go to the bathroom together.”

Bulma, on the other hand, could see the reddish tone staining the Count's cheeks and widened a smile.

“Since when did you become so vulgar?”

“Come on, Vegeta. Don’t you think it's not time to be modest?”

“Don’t even think to follow me, woman.”

Unable to refuse his orders, Bulma crossed her arms and watched his torturous journey. She must have imagined it, she thought. In what world would Vegeta let her take his arm to walk from room to room?

"Damn..." the count said as he pulled from Bulma's boudoirs some hairbrushes.

She remained expectant, fearing the pain of his feet as much as for his pride at seeing him grope the walls to reach the bathroom. Finally, he hit the latch and after entering the door he closed it scandalously. Bulma walked to the bathroom and Vegeta could hear her footsteps approaching dangerously, and before she could lean over the door to listen intently, a roar emerged from the other side.

“DON’T YOU DARE!”

Petrified, Bulma frowned.

“ALL RIGHT!” she replied in the same tone.

Frustrated, she sat on the bed and waited patiently. A yawn went out from her lips without permission and she covered her mouth. Her eyes were blurred and when closing her eyelids her black lashes became wet. Suddenly her pillow looked terribly tempting. She looked at it from the corner of her eyes. The mattress felt soft, softer than the chair she had slept in the last two days, if those long blinks could be called sleep. What was so wrong about lying in her bed? It's not as if he could realize it. She rested her head on the feather pillow and felt her body relax for the first time in days. She breathed the perfume that had impregnated there, it was his side of the bed, that portion of the mattress Vegeta always used when he accompanied her so that she didn’t have nightmares.

On the other side of the door, Vegeta kept trying to make a mental map of everything he touched. Desperate to feel autonomous, independent of the help that Bulma could give him. And, although he didn’t hear Bulma's footsteps approaching, he was afraid she might open the door at any moment, ignoring his threats. His own modesty was also disgusting. It disgusted him to be reduced to touching furniture and walls to know where the hell he was standing. Everything was new, to be covered in a dark place.

He had often gotten up in the middle of the night and without lighting a lamp he would walk through his trust-laden mansion, but now he couldn’t do it. Each step was a challenge.

He felt the toilet bowl under his hands. So embarrassed was the thought of stopping and holding up with a little more. But it didn’t make sense, he had to urinate at some point and if that's how his life would be from now on; he would have to get used to it. And he hated the idea of living like this the rest of his days. Then, he opened the door. He couldn’t control the disgusted expression on his face. His puckered lip and the reddish tone of his cheeks were clear when it came to revealing how he really felt. And, when leaving the bathroom, he was surprised to not listen to her comments. He tuned his ear, wondering if she had left. The room was too quiet for her to be there.

“Bulma?...” he asked and didn’t get an answer.

Suddenly a snore was heard on the bed and he had no control over his arched eyebrow. Then there was a soft moan. He knew them well, Bulma wasn’t the quietest woman at bedtime.

Vegeta remained inert in the darkness and meditated on the idea of lying down next to her, but the knots in his back from the prostrate days convinced him not to. But what could he do? His feet hurt and his knees trembled at every step. It had been a martyrdom to reach the bathroom. However, he had achieved it. And he wouldn’t let himself be intimidated by his disability. Maybe the only thing he could do now that would make him feel better would be to have a drink. He should seize the moment, Bulma could not corral him now.

He tried to keep quiet and cautiously walked around the bed until he reached the door. Slowly he turned the knob and hoped that the noise wouldn’t affect Bulma's sleep. He stood still, listening to her uninterrupted breaths and when he was sure she had not woken up, he walked to the corridor. With one hand on the wall he slid through his mansion. He knew that there was a library nearby with a modest bar, in which she spent much of her time. He hardly heard any movement on the ground floor, few steps, some voices of his employees as scarce irrelevant whispers. Apparently, no one had noticed that he was wandering around the mansion.

The runners became long, almost endless. Everything seemed to have changed now that he couldn’t see. The depth of each object had changed, and as he walked slowly; he imagined his surroundings trying to draw a map. He realized how little he really knew his own mansion, barely remembered the color of the wallpaper he saw every day, and he wasn’t sure exactly where the bar was.

He arrived at the entrance of the library, he knew it for how wide it was and recognized the aroma that permeated the room. There were so many old books there that inevitably carried an essence of their own that flooded the surroundings. He took a step forward and extended a hand, he was sure that very close to him there would be a very large armchair where he could rest a few minutes before embarking on his ominous way to the bar. An oak table hit his knee and he cursed. His curses echoed in the room, interrupting the silence. Fortunately, next to that small table was the sofa that he imagined and he soon sat down.

"Damn it..." he murmured as he heard footsteps approaching him.

“Vegeta?” Asked a scandalized voice.

Immediately, he recognized the voice of his young brother, who had stopped on the other side of the room and was looking at him static.

“I hope it hasn’t crossed your mind to take me back to that room.”

“Don't worry about it, I can still feel the punch of this morning.”

The count smiled and wondered how long he had wanted to punch that little scoundrel face. He wished he could see him, he was sure it would bring him some satisfaction. And as he thought about how swollen his cheek would be, Tarble approached him cautiously.

“Where’s Bulma?”

“Sleep, and it would be better to keep it that way.”

The youngest was silent, wondering what Vegeta would do blindly wandering around the mansion.

“Do you want me to bring you a jacket... or a shirt?”

“Better bring me a whiskey, if you want to be useful.”

Without objection, Tarble walked directly to the bar and poured a drink for his brother. Then he walked over to him and held out his glass.

"Here..." he said and a certain remorse ate at him when he found his gaze lost, unable to know where to extend his hand. He preferred to spare him the indignation and bent down to deposit it directly on his hand. Vegeta took the glass and soon took a long drink, so long that it began to burn his throat before finishing. He felt the burning in detail spread through his body like a hot drop and wrap around his stomach. Then he let out a sigh and remained silent, almost ignoring the presence of his brother in front of him.

Tarble retraced his steps and took a seat not far from him. He didn’t have the courage to sit next to him, unable to know for sure if any of his comments would make him a beast one more time. He thought carefully his words. Perhaps the most sensible thing would be to say nothing at all and let him rest in silence and enjoy his drink. At least now he could say a few words to him and, for the moment, he didn’t seem to have any intention of throwing the glass he had just given him. Although insignificant, it felt like an achievement.

While Tarble meditated on what he should do with his own brother, Vegeta created grim ideas about those responsible for his accident. On the one hand, there was Zamas, who had plenty of reason to believe that he had killed Black. On the other, there was Nappa, and if he or Tarble didn’t comply with the clause in his father's will, he would inherit all the luxuries that they enjoyed.

Now, with Tarble in the same room as him, maybe the best thing would be to get that topic off as soon as possible. Vegeta hated not being able to see him in the eye to get as much information out of him as possible. Even if he decided to leave, he had no way to force him to stay. Any threat he could tell would feel short, impossible to fulfill.

"Bulma told me something very interesting," he began, completely capturing Tarble's attention. “She mentioned that you had a conversation with Nappa at the equestrian event...”

“Do you think it's an opportune time to talk about that?”

“I will decide when it’s opportune, and I have done it. So, you'd better start talking.”

The young man sighed, unable to resist sharing the details of that conversation. He knew well that Nappa could have been responsible for what had happened with Vegeta, and he was more certain that his brother wouldn’t leave that debt unpaid.

“Just after you went to the competition, Nappa sat next to me. We were alone, him and me. Suddenly he asked me about Bulma, he wanted to know if you had secretly married her... Then he mentioned our father's testament... He reminded me of what will happen if you don’t comply with the marriage clause. Then he said goodbye, saying he was ruining his image by staying at my side.”

Vegeta let out a deep, guttural laugh. The idea of his young brother ruining the image of that old man was unreal. In some strange way, he managed to feel slightly offended by him. Many times he had detested him, but it was still his direct family and everything they could say to Tarble fell on him too. He knew exactly what he meant, the scandal of Black's disappearance and the raid on his mansion had given him something to talk about. Probably they would have been a mockery in the most intimate meetings of high society.

“There is another thing I would like to ask you...” Vegeta continued enigmatically, “How is it that you hired a nurse for me?”

“Wow, I see that Bulma did not waste time...”

“Then it's true.”

“We didn’t know how long you would be unconscious.”

“You're a little wretch...”

"Since we're catching up, maybe I should tell you that I found your beloved Bulma drinking cognac alone with Raditz while you were unconscious.”

Tarble's words took him completely off guard. There were no words that came from his lips and a growing intrigue rushed to his stomach.

“When?” He asked in a demanding tone.

“This morning, shortly before you woke up. I asked her to come back to prepare everything for your return from the hospital and when I arrived, they were here.” Vegeta remained silent imagining the scene. He remembered that Bulma had mentioned that she had exchanged a few words with Raditz, but the idea of both sharing a drink seemed disturbing.

“I'm really not sure what kind of relationship you two have...”

“And it's none of your business either.”

“I know. I have it very clear... but I didn’t think it was decent on her part. At that moment I asked Raditz to leave and I asked Bulma that, if someone came to talk to you, it was up to me to be their host.”

“Did you ask?” said Vegeta with a smile.

“I informed her. Then she told me that Raditz had come to talk to her, not you. And he, before leaving, told me that Bulma could clear up his doubts on his next visit.”

"I suppose now he can come to clear his doubts with me," he said, taking another drink.

 

"I have nothing against that girl," Tarble began in a calm tone. “But while you cannot, for whatever reason, make a decision in this house, it is my responsibility to do it and my legal obligation. And given your relationship with her, I couldn’t allow another man to court her in your absence, it would be an insult. Even if she's not your wife, she...”

“You can be quiet, Tarble.”

Vegeta felt uneasy. He remembered the way he tried to seduce her the morning he met her and felt that commotion that invaded him once again. He was slightly sorry that he had not instigated Bulma more about it, had passed away many of her words. He knew they had talked about Zamas, and maybe that was why Raditz had refused to talk to Tarble. Or so he expected.

"You can go," he finally said.

Tarble pinched the fabric of the chair he was sitting on. It reassured him to know that at least Vegeta was still in one piece, mentally. He feared that this accident could have done more than make him blind, but apparently, he was still himself. And if he was still the Vegeta he knew, he would not let anyone help him back to his room. Even if he had to crawl to it.

"Fine," he said.

He got up from his seat and prepared to leave, but Vegeta's last words stopped him for a moment.

"Nappa is right about something, Tarble," he froze and looked at his brother over his shoulder. “One of us must marry immediately.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much you guys! Thank you for the kudos and the comments!! The next chapter is quite long... so it maybe take a little more than I expected to translate. It have come to my attention that normaly a novel has arround 200 pages. Well, this story can cover more than a trylogy. It's surprising for me to have achive that number of pages and I hope you're not bored with this story so far! There are a lot of thing happening next!


	23. Chapter XXIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so excited to have had the time to finish translating this chapter that I could cry.

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**IN YOUR HANDS**

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**Chapter**

-XXIII-

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It was impossible, both for Bulma and for Tarble, to ignore the way Vegeta tried to cut the steak on his plate. She had tried to help him, but the count had been extremely energetic at refusing to accept her help. The idea of Bulma cutting his steak to feed him in the mouth made him sick. It made him nauseous just thinking about it and, although it seemed that the simplest task had become hell, he could not accept it. He could not let them take care of him like a small child.

He took a knife and then a fork and, blindly, tried to use them. He feared he was making a fool of himself in front of the two of them, and inwardly he expected Tarble to dare to make a comment. But he was smarter than that, and he preferred to keep quiet. Seeing his brother fighting his food completely took away his appetite. And he and Bulma shared glances, from time to time, without comment.

She was happy at first, knowing that he was regaining his appetite seemed a clear sign that he was recovering, but everything had become more complicated than she had expected when she realized how difficult that little task had become.

In the morning he had taken a shirt and preferred not to button it, as he was afraid he didn’t know which buttonhole went on each button and end up looking like a clown. He brought it loose and underneath it his abdomen showed shamelessly. His hair was disheveled and he was still wearing the same pants from the previous night. And judging by his bitter expression, he would throw his plate against the nearest wall at any moment.Vegeta and Bulma had had a heated discussion about the shirt he was wearing at the time and he refused to argue again about it one more time. He didn’t want to let her help him. Even knowing that his accident could have been caused by someone else, it didn’t do much to lessen the terrible sensation that haunted him. The feeling of being punished for his actions. The impression that a greater force, out of his knowledge, had turned the table on which he sat to give him a taste of the dish he had prepared himself.It wasn’t a coincidence that after everything he had done in his life, especially to Bulma, he ended up being led to accept her help. Vegeta still remembered the occasions in which he forced her to dress him to make her feel ashamed, to destroy the modesty that he thought was pretense, and to bend her to him so that she would end up leaving where she came from. It was ironic that after all that, she refused to leave and, on the contrary, offered herself to help him to the point of getting angry at him for not accepting.

He could not afford it.

Suddenly, Bulma raised her fork and attacked the steak. Vegeta heard the din of the crockery and stood motionless, not really knowing what was happening. Then she picked it up, punctured by her cutlery and took it to her plate. Took a piece of bread from the center of the table and split it in the middle. She placed the meat between the bread and took Vegeta's hand to receive it.

“There you go, now eat.”

Vegeta growled, but his stomach growled louder. He took the sandwich between his hands and took a bite. Bulma smiled victoriously and glanced at Tarble, who watched them perplexed.

The mansion housekeeper crossed the threshold of the door and apologized politely for her interruption. Tarble turned to her and received the newspaper that she extended to him and then withdrew. He opened the newspaper and looked at it disinterestedly.

Bulma ate satisfied while thinking about what other dish she could offer the count that didn’t require cutlery. Suddenly Tarble held his breath and when he raised her blue eyes she found him worried.

“What?” Bulma questioned and Vegeta chewed softly to listen to their conversation.

“Black's father has passed away.” Both were totally silent, waiting for more details. “The obituary says he died last night; I knew he was very sick. How unfortunate that he died without having found his only son.”

"He has another," Bulma added. “He recognized him recently, his name is Goku...”

“Bardock had an illegitimate son?”

“That's right, his mother owns a small butcher shop in the center of the city.”

“Well, I guess he's lucky. If Black doesn’t appear, he will inherit all of his father's fortune. Now that you mention it, I do remember it... It's hard not to recognize him, since it's identical to Black. He was at the police station when we went for Vegeta, wasn’t? Raditz’s brother, right?”

"I think so..." she muttered uncomfortably.The count cleared his throat and Bulma soon offered him a glass of water. The reminder inherent in Raditz's threats came back to her heart. Bulma felt pressure but deliberately tried to control the convulsion in her face. If Goku was suspected of receiving that inheritance by murdering his own brother, Raditz would soon be against both of them.

“I'll have to prepare for the funeral, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to take a bath.”

Tarble left the newspaper on the table and Bulma took it to read it.

“Shouldn’t you go too?”

“Have you lost your mind? And let everyone see me in this condition? I’d rather be dead.”

“Don’t say that. I only thought it was appropriate, it’s the burial of a nobleman. You should be there.”

Vegeta tried to ignore her words. If his accident had really been provoked as he believed, he wasn’t going to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing him walking with a cane. That they mocked him without being able to see their faces, that they pointed at him out without him knowing it.

“At least let me prepare a bath for you. Tarble made the arrangement to get the window of your room repair. In the afternoon they will clean everything and... they will bring the chair that you threw out the window. I'll prepare the tub in my room for you.”

The housekeeper came closer again when Vegeta thought about how to refuse Bulma's request. He didn’t know if it embarrassed him more to be bathed or stay that way for a few more days; stinking of his own blood.

"The count will not receive anyone for the next few days," she told the woman.

“No, ma'am... It's a delivery for you.”

Surprised, she got up from the table but not before asking Vegeta to wait for her. The count listened to her footsteps echo as she retreated and continued eating. He couldn’t imagine what they might have sent Bulma, maybe the last thing she had received there had been Black's gifts.

He wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his wrist, he detested the idea of being badly presented. Dirty crumbs of food all over his lap.She returned quickly and he could clearly feel the enthusiasm in her footsteps. She walked with haste, almost running to him. He stood by his side and waited for her news.“They are the pieces, Vegeta. I can start working now!”“Perfect, that way you'll have less time to be harassing me.”“While the employees unpack the boxes, I have time to prepare your bath. You have not bathed for days, Vegeta.”Horrified by his own hygiene, he couldn’t refuse.“Fine…”Bulma heard a low growl under her voice. It grieved her to know he was so short of options. And before rejoicing in that little victory, she stood up and went to prepare the bath tub as she’d promised.

The count listened to her steps and at the same time he heard the employees of his mansion making a noise while they received the boxes. He had finished eating, and although he feared for his appearance, he stood up and walked tragically to the doorway. The movement of the nearby steps ceased and although he couldn’t see it, he knew that all those unknown glances lay on him.

“Leave everything in the great hall.”

When he said that, he heard them agree and continue with their tasks. He stayed there until the last of the boxes was taken to the old room that no longer officiated events, since many years ago. He supposed it simply because of the almost complete cessation of the sounds around him. Little by little they went away, vanishing from his reach. He still felt a terrible fury throbbing in his chest, his whole interior roared with helplessness and he wondered again how much longer he could endure bearing that burden. He felt pathetic in his own skin, unworthy of himself. And ready to contradict the macabre ideas that his mind worked, he walked to the stairs. He prayed that nobody was watching him from afar and in silence, while rocking the palm of his hand in the air trying to find the railing of the stairs.

He walked slowly through the nothingness and his palm brushed a wall. He cursed himself and doubted that mental map he had drawn, he was lost in his own mansion. He slid his hand along the wall and found the front door. He wasn’t as far as he thought, and yet he didn’t feel any satisfaction at seeing himself _not so wrong_ in his calculations.

By the time he reached the stairs he stopped to think about the challenge that had become his everyday. But, despite that, he didn’t stop. He lifted one leg and looked for the first tread, and was outraged that he didn’t know how tall they were. The tip of his foot hit the tread and then found its surface. Five steps later, he began to wonder how many steps there were still to go.

Under his skin, one leg began to tickle him gently. His whole body had done it at some point. As if suddenly his muscles fell asleep and stopped responding. He hoped it was only the result of days asleep and not a sequel than he should have to endure. The involuntary movement of his hands began to disappear, and maybe so would those strange responses of his body. With one hand he took his thigh and forced it to climb one more step and forced that exerted limb that refused to cooperate, producing a strange sensation of pain. He gritted his teeth and continued, leaning on the railing.

“What the hell are you doing?!” He listened very close to him.

Unknowingly, he had walked the stairs almost completely. Bulma could see the pain transmitted in the convulsion of his expression. He was fatigued, but he didn’t have the guts to admit it. With a dismayed look, she observed the path he had traveled silently and although she was terrified of the terrible possibilities that would result from a new fall, a certain emotion and excitement increased within her. She was fascinated by his stubbornness.

She let out a sigh, realizing that there really was no force on the earth that could break the man in front of her.

“Come on... there’s only one step left.”

Contrary to what he thought when he heard her screams, Bulma ended up leaving the way free for him to continue. However, no comforting sensation passed through him. Now he had the damn certainty that he had a spectator of his painful trajectory. Fortunately, he only needed one more step to finish it. He placed most of his weight on that gravel oak railing and took a breath. He climbed the last step and couldn’t see the smile on her face.

"Let’s go, it's all ready," she said, but this time she didn’t extend her hand.

She opened the door and he listened to her footsteps move away gently. It took him by surprise. It wasn’t like she was abandoning him, strangely it seemed to be the opposite. She encouraged him without pressure, without effusive shouts. For the first time she was treating him like he wasn’t blind.

Slowly he followed the sound of her footsteps, imagining the bed he was surrounding. Upon reaching the bathroom he heard the water rocking inside the bathtub. A drop fell, just splashing. Again and again, as soft as her steps. When he got to the bathtub he knew what was next.

"Turn around," he ordered.

Bulma knew she could fake it, that he would never know if she had really turned around or not. And he was also aware of that, and maybe ordering it would not do any good. Maybe it was just one more way to reaffirm his power, imaginary at that moment. And although he knew well that he would never have the certainty that she would listen to him, a part of him expected her to do so. For his pride.

Bulma turned around and smiled.

"Okay then," she said.

It was difficult for him to undress at that moment. It was the first time he felt so reluctant to undress in front of a woman. Probably because he had never before felt there was something wrong with his body. Even with his crumbling confidence, he pulled back the shirt he had not buttoned that day. He stopped for a moment and regained courage, exacerbated with himself for doubting it so much. Then, as quickly as possible, he removed his pants and spread his hands over the edges of the tub. His cold hands caressed the wetness of the bathtub and put one foot in the water, almost forced by internal screams. The warm water reached his knee. He affirmed himself strongly, he wasn’t going to allow himself to fall at that moment. He inserted the other foot and when he was sure, he sat down. He heard the water splash and fall around the edges. He heard the water trickling down the sides, over the tiles of the bathroom and he remained seated. The warm water surrounded him, he felt the hot steam brush his face and his body finally managed to relax.

“You want a sponge?” Bulma asked, still turning her back to him. “I'm not going to look at you,” she added, remembering that he had said similar words to her that terrible night when he helped her remove Black's blood from her body.

“Yes…” he answered after a few seconds.With the sole purpose of making him feel more comfortable with her presence, Bulma walked gently to him and crouched by the tub. She took his hand from his wrist and turned his palm to receive the sponge covered with soap. Vegeta soon began to wipe his arms to his shoulders and scrub them vigorously.And, although she had promised not to look, it had suddenly become extremely difficult.Of course, her body hadn’t forgotten the feel of his hands on her. Nor had she forgotten the tingling sensation that ran through her lips after kissing him.She had had several opportunities to see him naked, even while he ate. From time to time, her blue eyes ran over his torso and she ended up smiling when she saw him eat, throwing his manners out the window.

“I can help you with your hair, if you want me to...” she said in a sweet and flirtatious tone.

Vegeta could feel his will bowing, perhaps attributed to how relaxed he felt embraced by the warm water. He turned his face and somehow, for Bulma that was enough affirmation.Suddenly, one of her fingers caressed his throat and slid across his skin to his chin.

“Raise your head.”

The count obeyed without realizing it. In a second he held his breath and remained motionless waiting for her next move. Among the dark immensity that accompanied him permanently, he heard light footsteps, she moved some things around him and he frowned. He felt restless and intrigued at the same time.

Gently, she slid her index finger over his brow and placated his contracted eyebrows.

“Easy.”

Her voice came from above, right in front of his face. And when he was ready to tell her to stop playing games, her snowy hands tangled slowly in his black hair.He closed his eyes, unable to hide the pleasure her hands produced when she started massaging his scalp.Bulma smiled satisfied to see his relaxed expression and again found herself seduced by his masculine face wrapped in her hands.

She took a jug and filled it with water from the tub, then poured it carefully over the count's hair and massaged slowly. Over and over again until all the soap was removed from each strand of dark hair. Even after finishing, she continued to caress him. As if it had become impossible to break that link that united them. He barely opened his eyes and Bulma was lost in the onyx of his absent gaze. Vegeta felt his heart pumping hard under his ribs, pounding his heated chest. He opened his eyes and found himself still imprisoned in the darkness and cursed himself for not being able to see her face, wondering what expression she would have at that moment. If she would be as flushed as on previous occasions.

Bulma felt him separate from her hands and sit up on the tub. She contracted her hands, feeling immediately how the humidity turned cold.

Water dripped onto his broad back and she was tempted to put her hands on it, but she held back. She stood up and wrapped him in a towel. She hung another one on the edge of the tub and walked a few steps away.

"I'll go for your clothes," she said before closing the door.

She sat on the edge of the bed, her heart pounding in her throat, leaving her breathless. Her flushed cheeks were nothing more than the irrefutable statement of her most intimate desires. Vegeta came out the door wearing no more than a towel, knotted at the waist. Her blue eyes widened and she instinctively turned her face and a cry drowned down her lips. With her mouth ajar, her mind thought of hundreds of words that suddenly piled on top of each other and her tongue tangled. He heard an impossible monosyllable and half smiled, at least he wasn’t the only one uncomfortable in that situation.Bulma's eyes slid and she closed them tightly after seeing his muscular abdomen.

“Nervous?” He asked and Bulma gave an ironic laugh at his rediscovered confidence.

“Of course not.”

"I thought you said it wasn’t the time to be modest," he began when Bulma approached him.

“You could have warned me. You just took me off guard. Here, put on pair of pants, please.”

Immediately, she turned on her steps without his asking. Her heart runaway rumbled over her ears and her face felt boiling. She closed her eyes, in case the most indecent part of herself decided to take a look and waited as she listened to the towel fall to the floor. She listened the cloth gliding down the count's body and tried to put all her will into controlling her breathing and the heartbeat of her heart.

“My shirt?” He asked later.

"Yes..." she muttered quickly and after clumsily taking it, it fell down and she bent down to pick it up.

She looked up, inevitably, she watched his black pants cover him up to the hip, and above them his naked abdomen. The image of his broad chest made her shudder and she swallowed trying to regain her composure. She stood up and with shaking hands and she helped him adjusting the sleeve of his shirt.

Vegeta felt her hands grab his arm and the soft fabric of his shirt brush against his shoulders. He heard her light gait, surrounding him from behind to repeat the same action on the other side. She helped him to put it on his back and for a moment her snowy fingers touched his neck.

Vegeta hadn’t forgotten her taste either, he had longed for it countless times. He had thought bitterly while sharing the bed with her to help her fall asleep. Incredulous even of his great will to submit to what now seemed like torture. Sleeping next to her and breathing night after night the scent of her hair without being able lay a finger on her, had been terrible. And still, suffering from the muffled cries of his own skin, those nights had been serene. Sleeping by her side gave him a certain peace that couldn’t be compared to another sensation. He was comfortable with her, maybe even, happy? Perhaps satisfied would be the word he would use to describe that strange feeling. He was pleased to hear her soft breathing, to know that his presence was a balm for her over the horrors she had experienced. It was an inexplicable calm.

Every once in a while, he would find himself staring at her face, under her disheveled hair and wondering why, why was he so inclined to be there by her side? What did that woman have that he felt satisfied with just sleeping with her?It wasn’t as if he had never done it. It wasn’t the case, since, Vegeta had spent the night with many women before her. Vegeta had slept with more women than he remembered and on more than one occasion had done so until dawn. But with each of them, he was terribly aware of it. He often woke up in the middle of the night, uncomfortable, counting the hours until that night finally ended. As if there was something under the mattress. As if the sheets sting. Even falling asleep seemed difficult knowing that there was someone else in his bed.But none of that had happened to her, even though she snored every now and then, even if she kicked him or raised an arm suddenly and hit him in the face. It wasn’t the most placid thing in the world, but it felt somehow, extremely natural.Vegeta felt the trembling of her hands on his navel, buttoning his shirt until she reached his neck with difficulty. And the idea of disarming her without doing anything at all felt wonderful.Before he could think of it, he took one of her hands and stopped the trembling of her fingers in an instant. Bulma looked up, her face congested with heat, her chest vibrating."Easy, they're just buttons," he told her.

His petulant smile was devastating and seeing him again so sure of himself, Bulma felt her skin bristle under his touch. His masculinity disarmed her, made her knees tremble and at the same time clouded her judgment. When his grip slipped from her hands gently, she continued with her task trying to be as inconspicuous as possible and ignore his magnificent body, now hidden under his immaculate shirt. But it seemed impossible, and it relieved her slightly that he couldn’t see her flushed face. She prayed that he wouldn’t notice, that he couldn’t hear the accelerated beat of her heart having her so close.

When she reached the buttons on his neck, she lifted his chin and a slight fear was born inside him. His neck throbbed inside, as did the rest of his body. Maybe she could feel it under her fingers and finally she would realize how anxious he really was. However, he did not stop her, he let her hands run down his torso and tangle around his neck, adjusting the folds of his clothes.

Bulma took his wrists and gently placed the cufflinks, then helped him to put on a black jacket and then asked him to sit on the bed, but he refused to let her put his shoes on. When he finished, he stood up, but Bulma placed a cloth over his hands.

“I thought you would like to wear gloves.”

He smiled, but found it quite difficult to put them on and Bulma quickly stepped in to help him. For a moment she thought he would get frustrated and end up throwing them aside, but on the contrary, he remained silent and let her run her fingers carefully and hide the fabric of his gloves under his jacket.

"You look perfect," she said without realizing it and got immediately embarrassed, not knowing how to erase that comment.

"I know," he answered with overflowing satisfaction.

“I'm glad to see you as cocky as ever...”

He couldn’t know that Bulma had dodged his gaze and now she was watching the window without paying real attention. And it wasn’t until she saw Nathalie’s figure wandering around the yard that she remembered the way they had finished their last conversation.

“Excuse me, Vegeta ... There's something I have to do. You'll be fine, right?”

“Go...” he answered without answering her question.

She still wasn’t sure how to exactly face that situation, the only thing she knew was that she had to talk to her. After all, she was probably the first woman who had looked at her for what she was and not as the daughter of a duke, the heiress of a fortune, or as the disgraced orphan, or the employee of someone else. And, probably, she had helped her escape from the brothel because she knew that there was something better out there waiting for her. Perhaps, that idea had led Nathalie to look doubtfully at Yamcha, fearing he would be nothing more than another man trying to take advantage of her.

Quickly, Bulma retreated down the stairs, hoping to find Nathalie. When she reached the kitchen she found her with a couple of young ladies, talking animatedly. Her presence seemed to silence them immediately.

“Excuse me, but could you leave us alone? It will only be a moment.” Nathalie looked at her companions, who after a friendly gesture, withdrew. “I think...” she began carefully, “I think I owe you an apology... I know it's not an excuse, but with everything that has happened lately I've been very nervous, I...”

"It’s okay, Bulma," she said in a calm tone. “I understand...” And there was no doubt in her face, on the contrary, she was apparently happy to see her return to her. “How is he?” she asked, tearing a bitter smile from Bulma.It grieved her that after all she had no words to reproach her for her painful behavior and, on the contrary, she worried about Vegeta. And, although she had asked about him, she didn’t seem to really care about the count's condition, but hers, through him.

“I think he's better, at least he’s in a better mood.”

"I owe you an apology too," she said then, with some regret, "I think I should have been a little more discreet with my comments. It wasn’t the time to overwhelm you with those things.”

“Do you still think that Yamcha would have something to do with this?”

“Well, I honestly wouldn’t rule it out. It’s a little hard for me to trust men in general, let's say I've seen the worst of many of them.”

“I understand... still I cannot imagine Yamcha involved in something like that. He is the reason that I am here. Without knowing me, he intervened for Vegeta to give me a job in this house, he has always been very kind and attentive to me... I think I owe him an apology too. I didn’t treat it very well the last time I saw him.”

“I have seen men behave like this, at first a dream come true. They pretend to be what we are looking for, they pretend to have our best interest in mind, and when they don’t get what they want, they transform into what they always were.”

Nathalie crossed her arms and, in her gesture, Bulma found the backwardness of an old memory. Her words brought Black to her mind, almost immediately. Her description fitted almost perfectly with him. She remembered the way he moved, and the way women looked at him, dazzled by his hypnotic smile. And perhaps, if her parents had not died, and if she had not fallen into bankruptcy, she would have observed him naively, in the same way.

"Anyway, I trust Yamcha..." Bulma added, feeling in her heart the difference between him and Black. “You are probably right and he feels something for me, but even so he would be unable to attempt against Vegeta's life. He’s not like that.”

Her friend smiled at her, if she trusted Yamcha, she would try to do it too.

“And how are you holding up?”

"Barely, if I'm honest..." She sighed and leaned back against a table. “At times Vegeta seems ready to explode... as if he hated everything around him. While, for others, it seems that he’s back to being himself again and it's so... comforting... I'm not sure how to help him, most of the time he doesn’t want me to do it. And I understand him, this must be very hard for him. He doesn’t want to receive anyone and he doesn’t want to leave either. What if this is permanent? I don’t even want to ask, but... what if it is? I don’t know how to make him feel a little normal among all this chaos...”

“It's too early to ask you so many questions, take one day at a time. I don’t imagine how he should feel. I understand that he doesn’t want to receive visitors. It must be horrible that they are looking at your face and you can’t even know what expression they have. And, judging by the way you describe him, it's a terribly proud man.”

“I know...” she mumbled with her words still wandering in her mind. Since Vegeta had lost his sight, she only imagined how difficult it would be for him not to know his surroundings. But now that she mentioned it, she hadn’t really thought that he could hate not knowing which faces were watching him. “Could you do me a favor? There is something I would like to try.”

Late in the afternoon, the family doctor passed through the mansion and was finally able to examine Vegeta more closely. Unfortunately for him, he had no major news for them. The forecast could change in a matter of days, as it could not improve in the least. After a couple of exams, the doctor confirmed that Vegeta's mental integrity had not been compromised. He remembered until the last minute before losing consciousness. And although that was supposed to be a good thing, the count's reluctant appearance didn’t flinch.

Bulma had accompanied Vegeta to his office and when she accompanied the doctor to the exit, she crossed ways with Nathalie again, who had complied with her request. Then she retraced her steps and opened the office door one more time. His bitter face didn’t stop her in her intentions, she was slightly excited by that idea that her friend had given her. She sat in front of him and tried to put aside the words that Vegeta had heard, there was nothing he could do that could improve his condition.“I have an idea...” she said to him. “I asked Nath to buy me a pair of glasses. You could use them, maybe you would feel more comfortable. Nobody would notice that...”

“That I’m blind?” He questioned and the air between them became thick. His cold, premeditated tone left her speechless. “Are you kidding? Of course they will. I can’t walk a feet without holding on to a wall, don’t say stupidities.”

“Excuse me... I thought you might feel more comfortable if maybe...”“I will never feel comfortable being like this.”

“We can find a second opinion. Maybe if we go to another country...”

“I do not plan to leave this house. I will not be anyone's mockery.”

“You are not! Vegeta, just consider it. If you wear glasses, maybe you can go unnoticed. I can help you, I…”

“Silence... for once in your damn life, shut up. I don’t want to hear another word.”

She left the glasses on the table, surrendered to his words. His serious and determined gesture stopped her from continuing to explain her idea, which now seemed really stupid, if she thought it through. Perhaps, in her haste to return him a bit of normalcy, she had transgressed certain limits. Unfortunately, he didn’t share her enthusiasm. Much less after having heard for himself the diagnosis of his doctor, one of the most recognized in the country.

Vegeta listened to Bulma's steps, moving away from him. Then the door closed and the room was filled with silence. He hadn’t lied to her. Sincerely, he could not bear to live in that body, not in this way. And the more he meditated on the possibilities of an entire life limited to that disability, the more he became convinced that he didn’t want it.

After feeling once more his skin burn for her, he wondered if he could really tie her to a life with him. As he had thought early, that day before his accident. There was no way he would seriously think of linking her to a whole life of caring for a disabled man. A life to feed him, to bathe him, to attend to his most minimal needs. And the answer was so quick and strong that he had no more doubts. He could never condemn Bulma to live such a mediocre life. Having reached that conclusion, there was not much left to meditate on. He would have to ensure her well-being in one way or another, even if he ended up taking a very drastic decision.

The door knob turned, and the door opened again, pulling him out of his own thoughts. The grinding of the wood caught his attention and he waited for that person to announce himself.

“It's me... Raditz.”

“I expected you to show up. Sit, but first, give me a drink.”

"Looks like you're better," he commented, slightly surprised.

Before entering he had exchanged a few words with Bulma and had learned about the poor prognoses about Vegeta's health.

“I thought it was appropriate for us to have a drink, since you don’t mind doing it when you are alone with Bulma.”

Raditz smiled and filled Vegeta's glass.

“So that's what this is about... I'll start by telling you that I didn’t serve her the drink, she served it herself.”

“I didn’t know what she drank.”

“Cognac.”

“Interesting. What did you talk about?”

“A little about me, a little about you.”

“About me?” He asked, raising an eyebrow and Raditz sensed all the intrigue that his response had generated.

“She was pretty interested in knowing what exactly I do for you...”

“What did you answer?”

“Nothing, that's why she asked me how we met. I told her the truth, I guess that's not confidential, right? You still didn’t pay me at that time.”

The count was slow to respond, imagining what exactly Raditz had shared with Bulma about their relationship.

“I guess you didn’t come promptly to tell Bulma about our past.”

“Of course not, I knew what had happened and I wanted to know how you were doing.”

“How thoughtful. I hope you know that it will be the first and last time you will be alone with her, in similar circumstances.”

“Calm down, it wasn’t my idea. It arose... spontaneously.”

“I know what kind of man you are, so for your own good you will not do it again.”

“I had no choice. I wanted to talk to you about Zamas, you know I can’t talk about that with Tarble. Do you want me to confess a homicide to avoid your employee? Also, I already imagine the type of relationship you two have, you don’t have to explain it to me. I recognize a limit when I see it.”

“You know that's not what I meant, but I don’t need Tarble to make strange ideas and I don’t trust you to behave properly. She already told me about your suspicions and that's what I wanted to talk to you about. Do you have any information about it?”

“Nothing. Nobody saw anything, what about your stable boy? He was there, how could he have not seen anything?”

“No... I have not talked to him yet. I'm afraid to kill him if he answers some stupidity... Damn... then I have no witnesses, no evidence that this was an attack.”

“And if it was, it might happen again. You got to be careful; I wouldn’t recommend you leave your mansion.”

“If I don’t get out of here again, Zamas will be very happy imagining the type of sequels that I suffer from. I don’t know what's worst.”

“Still, I don’t understand what his objective is. If he wanted you to pay for what happened with Black, the best thing would be to incriminate you for his disappearance. As far as I know, they haven’t found anything, not a body, or signs of murder. Maybe he got tired of waiting for the police to do something and he preferred to take matters into his own hands. Or maybe it wasn’t even him.”

The door rang insistently. Vegeta and Raditz heard the rumble, but their conversation was more important. Again and again the door shook under the blow of his visitor's fist, until Nathalie finally came up to open it and a large, tall man invited himself inside.

Alerted, she got in his way and addressed him quickly. The man seemed to have an impetuous need to enter the mansion, as if looking for something.

“Forgive me, my Lord. But the count will not attend to anyone for the time being. Would you like to leave a message? I can give it to him when he is available.”

His dark gaze traveled her up and down, shamessly. And, although Nathalie was terribly used to being seen that way, as an object to acquire, she felt uncomfortable.

He watched her and looked around. Then he looked at her a second time and in her eyes he found something familiar, as if he knew who she was. His lip curled under his mustache and something perverse was born in his eyes. This wasn’t the first time they saw each other. However, she couldn’t recognize him at first sight. She had met so many men in her life, perhaps hundreds, that she found it impossible to remember him.

Bulma opened the door of her room when she heard the insistent thump on the wood, rumbling throughout the first floor and stood by the stairs when she saw Nappa enter in an imposing way, almost running over Nathalie. She saw an evil smile draw on his face when he saw her, running it lasciviously and then heard his words.

“I didn’t know Vegeta hired hookers.”

Nathalie couldn’t believe what she had just heard, and before she could answer, Bulma's unwavering tone was heard loudly.

"I'll take care of our guest, Nathalie," she said with growing impotence, shrinking inside.

Bulma came down the stairs and Nappa gave her the same twisted look. He traced her figure still sketching that grim smile, as if she were completely naked before him. In some way, he managed to make her feel uncomfortable, as if there were no clothes that could cover her under such macabre inspection. Although Bulma had asked her friend to leave, she remained by the door unable to leave her alone with such a lout.

“As already told, the Count will not attend visits. So, if you like, please do us the favor of leaving.”

“When this house is mine, I hope to have you as an employee. Although I have to say that I would prefer in uniform,” he replied ignoring her words.

"Excuse me, but I'm not Vegeta's employee," she replied, crossing her arms, almost trying to cover her chest from his gaze.

“Well, I do see something familiar in you. Didn’t both came from the same brothel? Wow, I didn’t know that Vegeta had a taste for prostitutes.”

"I reiterate, please withdraw," she said more forcefully, almost shouting her request.

“And if you're not Vegeta’s employee, who the hell are you to throw me out of this house? I'm sure I have a higher righter over this mansion than you do. Who do you think you are? I have come to collect my allowance.” He raised his eyebrows suddenly, as if he understood something, as if he had seen something that he had previously overlooked. “Oh...” he mumbled amused. “I know who you are, and with more reason you shouldn’t give yourself the right to throw me out. You are nothing more than a lover of Vegeta, a no one. Don’t this shameless...”

"This is the Count's mansion..." she said impotently.

“For now, but in a very short time all this will be mine. So, try to please me, and you too,” he added, referring to Nathalie. “And maybe we can have a little fun, if you behave well…” Suddenly, Nappa's hand slid down to Nathalie's hip and rubbed her shamelessly.

She walked away without hesitation and Bulma felt the skin of her body burst into flames. Her blue eyes pierced his hands and, exacerbated, she screamed.

“How dare you put your hands on her?! I want you to leave immediately, Get out! Get out of this house! You’re a scoundrel!”

The words came out of control of her throat. Perhaps she had never felt so outraged and invaded, even though he hadn’t laid hands on her. She completely forgot the colossal height of that man and planted her feet hard in front of him, still shouting irreproducible things.In the office, Vegeta and Raditz immediately heard the altercation and, surprised, they got up.

“What the hell is going on?” Asked Vegeta.

Raditz opened the door and remained there. On the other side of the corridor was the entrance door and from that angle he could see perfectly both women facing this immense man.

“It's your cousin, the bald one. He is arguing with Bulma, she is enraged...”

_“Get out! I want you outside this house right now! I don’t want you to set foot here again!”_

_“What? Ha! You… you stupid brat, you're nobody. Listen to me well, you are no one to throw me out of this house. You are nothing more than a mistress. Do you think nobody knows why you're here? All you want is to get into Vegeta's pocket to get out of your misery. Do you think a man like him would marry a harlot like you? I've seen many of you go through his bed, and you know what? No one is here the next day. Maybe you've lasted a little longer than most, but that doesn’t make you different from them. Eventually he will get tired of you and move on to the next one, as he has always done.”_

_“Harlot!? How dare you?! You're useless, a leech that lives on Vegeta's crumbs. I really feel sorry for your wife, what a martyrdom it must be to live with a man who survives exclusively on the assignment of his wife.”_

_“Shut your mouth, you stupid little brat. I want you to bring Vegeta at this moment, what is the problem? Did the blow make him stupid and you are hiding him from everyone? What's up with Vegeta? What kind of disability does he have that he can’t take care of his relatives? I came to collect my allowance, he has an obligation to assist me! You don’t have any rights over this house, nor over its employees, so don’t come here to give orders. Learn your place here, you are no more than a poor woman. So, close your mouth and bring Tarble to answer in the name of his brother.”_

_“_ _You are a degenerate! A stupid ape! And I don’t care if I have a right over this house or not, neither do you. And if you want to see Vegeta, you will have to wait until he pleases to see you. And Tarble is not here, so you'll have to deal with me, like it or not!”_

_Nappa ignored Bulma, with the intention of entering the mansion._

_“_ _Stop! You will enter this house over my dead body!”_

_"Why don’t you go back to the brothel you came from? You, grotesque women.”_ “

That's enough, Raditz. Give me those damn glasses.”

As the screams echoed from across the hall, Raditz turned to Vegeta's desk and picked up a pair of circular red glass spectacles. He handed them to the count and he put them on quickly. Nappa's words were driving him crazy and he was unable to control the impulse that burned him to face it. However, he couldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing him truly incapacitated and giving credit to his words. Probably he would do no more than laugh at his state, mock Bulma even more and distribute that tragic story throughout the high society.

Then, without thinking too much, he left his shelter behind the wall of his office and holding the door frame, went out into the hall and faced Nappa’s shouts.

“How dare you come to my mansion and put together this painful show?”

Bulma felt a terrible chill run down her back as his voice roared in the room. She turned immediately and saw him on the other side of a long corridor, wearing the glasses she had obtained thanks to Nathalie. Her smile widened almost immediately, once the fear she felt for him dissipated.

Raditz was standing by his side, arms crossed, and walked directly to Nappa he heard the clear command of the count.

“Raditz, do me the favor of taking out the trash.”

“With pleasure.”

Raditz passed between the women like a hurricane and Nathalie took Bulma by the shoulders to move her away from that confrontation. On the other side, Vegeta was clenching his jaw, loathe not to see how Raditz threw that cheeky man out of his mansion.

Both men were incredibly tall, and although Raditz was shorter for a few inches, he managed to grab him from his jacket and carry him to a wall. When the bald man was about to insult him, Raditz struck him a blow to the cheek that had probably broken a pair of teeth.

Bulma freed herself from Nathalie's grip and ran to open the front door so they could get him out of there. But, as expected, it wouldn’t be so easy. Nappa head-butted Raditz in the middle of the forehead and managed to confuse him for a moment, but he recovered fast enough to hit him directly in the stomach. When the bald man fell to his knees, spitting blood on the carpet, Raditz grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and dragged him out of the mansion. And, just as Vegeta had asked, he dropped him on the garbage cans. But, before he could get up from the ground, a pile of rubbish that emanated disgusting odors bathed him. He wiped his face from a viscous, vomiting mass and, lifting his chin, met the face of the woman he had rebuked upon entering the mansion.

"I thought the count had asked us to take out the trash.”

“Damn whore...”

Raditz supported the weight of his boots on Nappa's face, effectively closing his mouth.

“That’s not a way to refer to a lady.”

After Raditz and Nathalie re-entered the mansion, Bulma locked the door. She looked out the window and saw Nappa peeling food from his clothes and then retreating, looking at her out of the corner of his eye.

At that moment, her suspicions about him had grown. After all, Tarble had told her what would happen if Vegeta didn’t comply with his father's will and get married. He was probably counting the days he had left.

Turning, she saw Nathalie gently taking Raditz's bruised face and smiled without realizing it. But that little meeting was interrupted by the imposing voice of the count.

“Raditz, to my office now.”

Bulma understood the Count's frustration at his cousin's terrible words, however, what she understood barely reached the surface of everything he was thinking in reality. Vegeta returned to his office and with a little less difficulty reached his desk and sat down. When he heard Raditz arrive, he firmly ordered him to close the door. Of all that he had heard, what had most disturbed him was the relation of his words to Tarble’s. Although their speeches and intentions were different, they were intrinsically connected. And, what gnawed at him inside was his veracity. Bulma was nobody.

Legally, there was no right to protect her if something happened to him. If Vegeta suffered another attack, or if he had lost his life in that _accident_ , Bulma would have been left in the same misery. And he had to solve that situation as soon as possible.

He had already thought about it, after speaking with his brother the night before and having finished with the blunt determination that one of the two should marry.

“There is an envelope in this drawer. Search it; it has a broken seal,” he told Raditz, who was somewhat dismayed by the seriousness of his gesture. He opened the drawer and soon found the invitation that had arrived a few days ago. “There you will find a name; I want you to look for that person and invite him as soon as possible. I want to meet him.”

“Are you going to let him see you like this?” He questioned, and for a moment Vegeta had almost forgotten that he was blind. Although he must say that the glasses was a good idea, he doubt that Nappa has noticed anything.

“I suppose that, if he had noticed, he would have mentioned it immediately... What that imbecile said must be what everyone are thinking, I imagine.”

“Probably, but as with your engagement, the disaster of the dance and the raid… they will end up forgetting it with the passage of time.”

“Not if I don’t get out of this mansion.”

Raditz put the invitation in his pocket and leaned back against the wall with crossed arms. He looked out the window with disinterest and continued.

“And what will you do about it? Will you go out and let everyone see you to confirm the rumors?”

“For now, just take care of what I asked you...”

“Of course... Do not worry about it.”

He left the count's office immediately. Soon after, Tarble returned from the service and soon learned of the news that happened that day. The three, along with Bulma and Vegeta, went to be living room to talk about it.It seemed that, for Tarble, there was no more doubt about who was the real culprit about what had happened with Vegeta. That the accident had been provoked by Nappa.

“He must have an accomplice... It's hard for me to imagine that he could do it alone.”

"He could have bribed one of the waiters to break the reins," Bulma added.

“He certainly have enough reasons to try. I must admit that it surprises me, I thought he was more of a coward.”

"He has always envied our fortune ..." Tarble said.

“The idea of the glasses worked perfectly. He was puzzled to see Vegeta, he must be praying that you were in a wheelchair, or something like that.”

“If that's true, Bulma is right. You should try, tomorrow is Bardock's funeral, what better time to introduce yourself and to shut up all those imbeciles?”

Vegeta raised an eyebrow at the words of his brother. Possibly it would be the first time he heard him refer with such contempt to the noble class to which he belonged. The reality was that, in the equestrian encounter, Tarble had tasted first hand the looks of contempt and the whispers behind him. Although he didn’t have the friendliest relationship with his brother, he had discovered a certain affection for him, perhaps stronger than his own enmity. And it was that same affection that led him to indignation, knowing with certainty that those same people would be mocking at cost of his only brother. It was unacceptable.

“It's a great idea. I can go with you, if I am by your side I can tell you who is present. You don’t even have to talk to many people, just to pay your respects to the family.”

“I'm not going to make a fool of myself.”

“I will also wear glasses. It's a funeral, we’ll not be the only ones. I assure you that if we do it well you will go unnoticed. I trust you can do it. I've seen you tour this mansion for yourself and you only have a couple of days like this. With Bulma by your side, you will have a reliable guide.”

There was some anxiety about the idea of going to Bardock's funeral in that state, but knowing that Bulma could guide him in the dark to pretend his situation seemed an extremely attractive plan. Nappa's words had penetrated deeply, bruising his already deteriorated pride. If someone came to greet him, which was quite improbable. Bulma and Tarble would be in charge of telling him who it was. And maybe, wearing those glasses, no one would notice that his pupils weren’t really looking anywhere.

“Okay... but at the first inconvenience, we'll get out of there.”

Bulma and Tarble smiled in ecstasy, incredulous at what they heard. They didn’t believe their ears. The count heard the excited voice of Bulma, but he remained implacable, not even a smile was drawn on his face, frowning, he remained unshakable. He was still plagued by doubts, and yet he put his life in the hands of that pair with the hope of silencing the series of rumors that would have spread over him. And, above all, prove both Zamas and Nappa, that they hadn’t achieved their goal, whatever the culprit was.

The next day, Vegeta prepared for the funeral as if it were a pitched battle. Bulma chose his best suit and Tarble got a demure black dress for her and, in addition, a fan of the same color. He told her that she could use it to talk surreptitiously with the count, explain carefully who was present and let him know, in case any person approached them. He was surprised by the count's iron face, he looked confident, as if he had thought all night about what they would do that day. He put on some black glasses, just like Tarble. They would be more useful to disguise his blindness. And, fortunately, the day had decided to accompany them in that plan. The cloudless sky left the rays of the sun uncovered, it wouldn’t be strange that both had dark glasses on.

Once in the carriage, Bulma clung to Vegeta's arm, as they had planned. But, although they had thought about it in advance, the fact of encircling his biceps with her thin level arm managed to make her blush. Under his jacket, his muscles contracted under her touch. Suddenly, she was extremely aware of being touching him and distracted her from her true mission. On the other side, Vegeta felt the warmth of her body on him. Her chest leaning over him pulled him out of his thoughts for a moment, and he tried to concentrate on what he was truly concerned.

"We're here..." Tarble said when the car stopped. “There are many people gathered, soon they will take the coffin to the cemetery.”

His first task, getting off the carriage with the greatest dissimulation as possible, went according to plan. However, the count's sense of uncertainty and anxiety had not diminished in the least. On the contrary, with each step he felt more regretful of what they were doing.Bulma clung to him tightly and gave him clear instructions to continue his walk. Vegeta held his forehead high and walked firmly, trying not to doubt his trajectory. Bulma spread her fan over her lips to speak more calmly.

"You're not the only one with glasses, I counted about five since we arrived.”

Vegeta turned his face to her, and it felt as if he really could see her. She couldn’t help but examine the curve of his nose under his glasses, impressed at how well he actually looked.

“Anyone I known?”

"Many nobles, but it was expected..." She was surprised for a moment and hesitated about the words she was going to share with him.

“What happens? It’s not the best moment for you to go mute.”

“I have the feeling that everyone is watching us.”

An inopportune smile was placed on the count's face.

“That was also to be expected.”

She had never felt so invaded by curious eyes, as now, hanging from Vegeta's arm. But despite that, she straightened her back with pride and continued walking through the crowd.

She noticed a woman in the distance, older, with her hair pulled back and her face hidden in a lace hat that barely concealed her gaze. She saw her smile mockingly and then turn around to gossip with others of her own age. She knew her, had attended several dances officiated in her father's old mansion, and was probably mocking her at that moment. For all those present, Bulma was a brazen. A young single woman, fallen in misery, proudly embracing the arm of a count with whom she wasn’t even engaged. And, besides that, she doubted that they forgot the painful incident at the dance where she left crying after arguing with the same gentleman that she was accompanying.

On the other side, a man looked at her and smiled fleetingly. Tarble walked near her and those looks and sniggering laughter didn’t escape his knowledge either. He glanced sidelong at the gentleman who smoked a cigar as he watched Bulma's gait, and then saw his gesture flippant. Perhaps, for her it wasn’t as obvious as it was for him, the image they were sending to the world. The idea that Bulma was able to get involved with a man who apparently didn’t plan to marry her. The concept that, perhaps, she was an easy woman to seduce.

"Do not pay attention to them," Tarble said to Bulma in a low voice.

She nodded softly and turned her eyes to the front, gave slight indications to Vegeta and between them she indicated who was present. It wasn’t a surprise that nobody came to greet them, not even Tarble. Vegeta felt calmer, they were really doing him a big favor by ignoring him. It wasn’t until Tarble was a bit uncomfortable and walked to one of the presents, a merchant with whom he had done some business a short time ago. Although he was reluctant to abandon them, he figured he could leave the situation to Bulma. Everything seemed relatively quiet.

Bulma observed the worried face of that gentleman, which didn’t seem strange to her, given the circumstances and, when turning around, her celestial gaze was caught by a woman who watched them not far away.

Her gaze penetrated the union between Vegeta's body and hers. And for a moment, she was disgusted by the idea that passed through her mind. This woman was probably the most beautiful lady she had ever seen. Her blond hair shone brightly in the sun's rays, and her black dress held tight to her tiny waist.

At first glance, the black of her clothes only highlighted the milk on her skin, punctuated by small freckles on her face and clavicle. Her big green eyes were hypnotic, and she was glad that Vegeta couldn’t see the way she was watching him. Suddenly she began her dangerous journey to the two of them, and for some reason Bulma feared that she intended to greet them. The memory of Diana passed through her mind and she thought of the possibility that she was one of Vegeta's many ancient lovers. She doubted what she should do, should she warn him or try to avoid her? But seeing her already very close to them, she tried to alert him as quickly as possible.

"A blonde woman is approaching," she managed to tell him before she got in front of them.

Of course Vegeta didn’t know what the sudden cessation of her steps was due to, nor could he turn his gaze to that beautiful woman's face. Bulma sensed his frustration, his brow furrowed softly and she looked at him almost ignoring her completely.

“Are you so tired of avoiding me that now you completely ignore me? Are you not even going to look at me?” she said, and he made the gesture of watching her trying to turn his face to the place where her voice came from.

"Brigitte," he answered almost immediately.

Bulma felt her stomach burn as she realized that he was able to recognize her by the single sound of her voice. And her anger increased rapidly by noticing the smile that was cocking at that moment.

“A lot of time has passed.”

“Some years,” he answered.

“I see that you are very well accompanied. Is she your wife?”

Vegeta cleared his throat and Bulma could feel the discomfort in the air.

"Bulma, Bulma Briefs," she said trying to widen a smile. “I’m sorry that my companion hasn’t presented me properly.”

“I’m glad to meet you, Bulma. I’m also sorry that Vegeta hasn’t introduced me. My name is Brigitte Catelvad...” Her gaze returned to that of the count, who lay in permanent darkness under his glasses. “Anyway, I don’t want to take much of your time. We should meet again; I have many things to tell you.”

“I can imagine...”

Vegeta’s words, although limited, kept a certain enigma that burned Bulma inside.

"I'll be waiting for your invitation," she said in a soft tone. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Bulma, I hope we meet again.”

The Count felt Bulma's nails cling to his jacket and could almost sense the way she was looking at him.

“Do we continue?” He said, trying in vain to ignore what had just happened.

"You're not going to explain to me what the fuck that was?” she questioned under her fan, beginning to walk very slowly.

“Do you really think that this is the right time or place?”

“What the hell did she meant by saying she has many things to talk to you about? Who is this Brigitte?”

“I'll explain it to you in the mansion.”

“You're going to explain it to me right now.”

“I said it's neither the time nor the place. Why are you so stubborn?”

“You don’t know the way she looked at you. Who is she? One of your old lovers?”

Vegeta laugh slightly and that only managed to exasperate Bulma more.

“I cannot believe you're laughing at me.”

"I'm not laughing at you, and if you really need to know who she is, I'll tell you just so we can get this issue over with." Bulma waited, while Vegeta seemed to remember some funny fact from the past. “Brigitte and I were engaged many years ago.”

“What did you just say?” She asked incredulously, choking on his words.

“You did not know? I'm surprised, you used to be one of the most gossiping women in the city.”

“I don’t know, maybe I knew and I didn’t pay attention. But, wait... if you were engaged, why didn’t you marry her?”

The count let out a sigh that only denoted how much it bothered him to share that story.

“When I was young, my father was a little concern that I would never get married. Then, he and Brigitte's father engaged us. She was… a convenient union. But apparently, she was in love with a young man, a servant. I found them one afternoon, in the kitchen of her father’s mansion, when his father summoned me to a meeting without telling her.”

“Oh... Vegeta, I'm so sorry...”

“You feel sorry? It was the best thing that could have happened,” he said smiling with satisfaction. “Without knowing it, she did me a great favor. After that disastrous arrangement, my father couldn’t force me to engaged to another woman. She, on the other hand, didn’t do so well. Her prestige went to the trash and her father ended up marrying her to an old decrepit. Decrepit and wealthy. I knew that the boy she was in love with received a juicy sum of money to leave the city. I suppose she must be looking for her next husband, since old Catelvad died a few years ago and his mourning period has already ended. He had children from his first marriage, and now she only lives on her pension. For a woman who used to be wealthy, a miserable pension shouldn’t be enough.”

Bulma's silence after his response was strange, and even stranger was the abrupt way in which she stopped. He suddenly felt very nervous. Bulma swallowed hard and fanned herself again.

“Black's brother is walking straight towards us...” she told him.

“Keep calm, let him come closer.”

“It would be impossible to avoid him, even if I wanted to, he’s staring at us. Damn, why does he have to look so much like his despicable brother?”

“You better not see the coffin...”

Vegeta cursed himself for not having taken into account that detail that had managed to freeze Bulma's blood. Both Bardock and Goku were extremely similar. And possibly, for her, it wouldn’t be easy to face not one, but two copies of the man she had murdered. But Bulma fanned herself and tried to calm herself down, she was already very involved in that plan as if to retreat now. And, although they both felt terribly reluctant to continue, they stood firm and with their heads held high.

"Good afternoon," the young man finally greeted.

Vegeta spread out his gloved hand quickly, before he could offer it to him and didn’t know how to receive his greeting. Goku shook his hand, his grip was firm, Vegeta noticed it in an instant.

“My name is Goku.”

“Vegeta. My condolences to your family,” he replied.

"I am Bulma, I am very sorry for your loss," Bulma added.

"Thank you very much," he replied with a faint smile. Bulma made a great effort to stand in front of him, and her heart stopped beating when she remembered what had happened that fateful night. “You're Milk's friend, right?” He asked in a calm and very low tone.

Surprised by his question, she noticed that she wasn’t present. And then she remembered that her belly would probably already be showing her status. Most likely she was hiding from everyone to avoid gossip, especially at a time like that.

“Yes... How is she?”

“She is very worried about everything that is happening... She told me that you have been very kind to her, and I thank you for that. Any friend of hers is a friend of mine.”

The tone of his voice was different from Black's. Strangely, he seemed sincere and kind. His smile didn’t hide other intentions, and she wanted to tell Vegeta even if she couldn’t, not in that moment.

The boy widened his smile and after a moment of looking at both of them, he seemed to notice something and raised his eyebrows as if surprised.

“Wait, I've seen you before. Didn’t we meet at the police station?”

Bulma's nails dug into the count once more. Vegeta felt an incipient discomfort and without realizing it he had taken a step back, as if he wanted to retire as soon as possible.

“Yes, you are. Did they also interrogate you for Black’s disappearance?”

“Could you lower your voice?” The count asked in a muffled roar. _Damn moron_ , he thought.

“Yes…” Bulma stammered. “But everything was nothing but a big confusion, I'm sure it will be solved soon.”

"I hope so," he answered candidly and seemed really calm about it. “I hope they haven’t caused you many problems.”

"Not at all," Bulma said, trying to smile and a nervous laugh escaped her. “Everything will be resolved very soon, I have no doubt about it,” she continued laughing almost frantically and Vegeta rested his gloved hand on hers in the hopes of calming her down.Goku broadened his smile and with confidence, raised a hand against Bulma and rested it on her shoulder. This boy seemed immune to the common rules of etiquette and, it was to be expected, he was an ordinary boy. However, something in him seemed simple, as if he were all she could see and nothing else. At that moment, seeing his sincere broad smile, she realized that if Milk had risked her reputation for that man, it was impossible for him to be half of what Black used to be. Then she smiled with equal sincerity and finally he could begin to separate those two people, with such similar faces.

“Thank you very much for coming. I will go to accompany my mother, this is very difficult for her...”

"Give her our condolences," Vegeta added and he nodded and then withdrew.

Had he seen the brazen way in which he had touched her, it would have been outrageous for the count. But, Bulma knew there was nothing behind his ways. And maybe, he was sincere when he told her they were friends, just like that.

“He seems to be a nice boy...” Bulma mumbled.“He seems to be an idiot.”

She laughed softly, a little more quietly and then followed the course that Goku had taken with her eyes to rest them on his mother. The woman wiped away her tears, and her anguish suddenly got her infected. She knew that she wasn’t his wife, she had recently learned, talking to Vegeta, that Bardock had been promised a woman shortly before getting involved with Gine, Goku's mother. It was a pity that this woman didn’t measure up as expected to be his wife, and she wondered if those tears were those of a woman who had been in love all her life with a married man, who couldn’t match her.

“Let’s give our condolences to the widow and let's get out of here. I have a meeting that I shouldn’t miss,” the count declared.

“A meeting?”

“Yes.”

“I thought you weren’t going to receive anyone.”

“I changed my mind.”

Tarble rejoined the group shortly afterwards and together they approached Bardock's widow to offer their condolences. To their good fortune, no one seemed to have noticed Vegeta's blindness. The widow didn’t seem as affected by her loss as Goku's mother, and upon hearing her she felt an energy similar to Black's in her. She looked like a dark woman, and looked at her with slight contempt as she greeted her. However, she remained cordial and received their respects with a certain height. When she retreated, Bulma felt her neck burn again and she turned with the sensation of being observed. But this time she not only met the gaze of Vegeta's ex-fiancee, but also, not far from her, with that of Zamas, Black's partner.

Suddenly, she felt a great urgency to get out of there and her steps got quicker. Vegeta had become terribly aware of Bulma's body, and perhaps it was the only thing that he was really conscious.

“Did something happend?”

“N-no, I just want us to leave.”

He wanted to rebuke her, but he didn’t have time for it. The meeting he had arranged through Raditz would be short and it was essential that he be there in time. He already had it completely decided, and the consequences that would result from that meeting didn’t matter to him at that point. He had almost no time left.

Upon arriving at the mansion, Bulma accompanied Vegeta to the office and asked her to leave him alone.

 _Maybe it's time for you to concentrate on your project, don’t you think?_ He said and although he had slightly offended her, he had a certain reason.

Although the way he had asked her to leave had only increased her growing curiosity about his important meeting. However, she went to the great hall that would now become her workshop and began to unpack the pieces she had ordered and to arrange them on the floor.

She extended her plans on the parquet floor and began to organize. And, in doing so, she realized how annoying her skirt was, the ruffles stretched out on the floor and barely let her see what she was doing. The folds made it difficult for her to bend over and she thought how convenient the pants were for men. She had never worn pants in all her life, not even for riding. She thought of the idea of stealing Vegeta's pair, and if she did, she should also take a shirt. But the idea didn’t seem entirely viable, her waist was smaller and perhaps it would be harder to keep them in place than to deal with her own skirt. Instead, Tarble's pants might be more appropriate, she thought. He was smaller than Vegeta, and thinner too. Would it be outragedly shameless to go to his room to steal a couple of trousers?

And not only her clothes proved to be problematic. The pieces she had ordered were covered with a thin layer of oil and soon after she discovered it, not only her dress got covered in black spots, but also her hands. She quickly went to the nearest bathroom with the irremediable idea that she would have to wear special clothes to work. And, on the way to the room occupied by Tarble, she saw a gentleman being led by one of the employees of the mansion, to Vegita's office.

Bulma watched him from afar. He was an older man, very elegant and she had never seen him in that house before. And probably, he had never seen it either.

The gentleman was supported by a black cane with gold appliqués, and had a monocle in his left eye.

Even though she was dying to know what the count was up to, Bulma discreetly walked into Tarble's room and rummaged through his clothes to take off a pair of pants and a belt that seemed to fit her.

Already in the office, Vegeta's employee announced his long-awaited guest.

"Mr. Abraham Hamilton, my lord," said the young girl politely.

Vegeta no longer felt so restless about his blindness, and although he couldn’t see the man she had mentioned, he rose from his seat and extended his hand. The man's trembling grip let the count know that he was an elderly man. Then he offered him a seat.

"Give our guest something to drink," he asked the girl.

“A tea will be good enough, young lady. Thank you.”

“Yes, sir. Would you want me to bring you something, my Lord?”

Vegeta denied, it would be impossible for him to conceal his blindness if he couldn’t drink from his own cup without staining his clothes or even knowing in which part of the table was his cup. When the lady retired to prepare tea, the count continued.

“I'm sorry I couldn’t answer your letter earlier.”

“Don't worry, I knew about your accident... I'm glad you're well and that you could have received me anyway.”

“I thank you for coming, I know it must have been a nuisance.”

“It’s nothing, I'm very interested in what you have to tell me.”

“Then we better get to the point, tell me about your daughter, please.”

The man smiled kindly, although Vegeta couldn’t see him. He coughed later and the count asked himself internally about his state of health, but didn’t question him about it.

Going to the kitchen for some cloth, Bulma found the same girl preparing a cup of tea for Vegeta's guest and finally, she couldn’t control her curiosity. She waited for the girl to enter the office and once she left, she went to the door and leaned in hoping to hear that intimate conversation.

“She's fourteen years old, I know she's a bit young for you... But, if I have to be honest, I'm very worried about leaving her well married. I'm afraid of not to find her a good husband before I die, it's my biggest concern. If you accept this arrangement, it would leave me very calm. I would know that she is in good hands.

“What makes you think she’d be in good hands? I don’t want to be discourteous, you are my guest. But let's not pretend that you don’t know my situation and the things that I am being accused of at this moment.”

He laughed softly and ended up sitting a little more relaxed on his chair.

“I like your sincerity, count. And yes, you are right, the horrors of those you are accused off have reached my ears, from maintaining a relationship with a young woman inside this house to a terrible crime, which I don’t dare utter. As for that, I have known that there is no evidence against you and that leaves me calmer. And... as for the first, you are a young and single man. I think it's almost normal for you to take some liberties, but, I imagine that being married you would end this romance, isn’t it?

“That doesn’t answer my question. I know there are many men you could marry your daughter to, without lovers or legal problems.”

“Well... in that case I'll be completely honest. My little daughter is the only one single, of seven sisters. Unfortunately, I wasn’t lucky enough to have sons, and it has been terrible to find a husband for each one of them. Especially to her... I will tell you the truth since we are two gentlemen. My daughter suffers from a very particular condition. She is a sickly young woman, since she was very young she hasn’t been able to leave the house, the sun affects her health terribly and that has kept her locked up all her life. However, I assure you that you will never meet a girl as sweet as her, she is very calm and intelligent, she will be a submissive wife, I can assure you that. The doctors who have examined her assure me that she can bear children without any problem... Besides, I think it would be a convenient arrangement for both. Some information has come to me, and I hope you don’t consider it imprudent on my part, but as I understand it, you must marry as soon as possible, according to a clause in your father's will.”

Vegeta held his breath to hear it and Bulma's blood suddenly cooled when she heard those words.

“My daughter has a dowry, although she will not inherit any title. I think it would be helpful, both for you and my family.”

“That is correct, it is a good arrangement.”

Bulma's heart skipped a beat and she left quickly, unable to continue listening to that conversation. She ran quickly to her room and closed the door behind her back. Her blood boiled with indignation when she observed the bed they had shared the last few nights and felt an uncontrollable anxiety to face him at that moment.

A tear rushed over her pupil, but she wiped her eyes quickly and choked a furious scream on a pillow. Vegeta hadn’t changed, he was still the same heartless man he always was.

The count, ignoring the small scene that had occurred on the other side of his office door, calmly continued his conversation.

“I don’t know whether to say that I am flattered by your proposal, given the circumstances. And I don’t want to offend you, but your daughter is too young to marry me. Unfortunately, I cannot accept it.”

“It's a shame, my daughter was very excited about this arrangement.”

“I have not finished yet, I have a proposal for you that will be equally as beneficial for our families.”

It was not long before Bulma saw the man go out the front door and wondered what kind of explanation Vegeta had given him not to accompany him to the exit. What an ingenious excuse he had invented not to reveal to the man who offered his daughter in marriage, that he was blind. What kind of lie would he have told him to cover his lack of courtesy. Because that was him, a liar. A manipulator, a shameless man. And without waiting for him and with an anxiety unable to appease, she felt a sudden inclination to ask Nathalie for something.

She went to the service room and searched everywhere until she finally found her. And without giving her many explanations, she asked her very earnestly for what she was looking for and returned to her room. She didn’t want to see anyone, she didn’t want to share with anyone the frustration she was carrying. And so she walked fiercely and opened the window of her room to sit there to smoke and think about all she had to tell him. Was he really going to get married? After everything that had happened, after all they had shared, did he really intend to marry a sickly girl?

She knew well what would happen if Vegeta did not marry, but somehow she naively believed that he could, eventually, consider her for that. And why wouldn’t he? She was beautiful, intelligent and, in addition, knew all his secrets. Or that was what she believed.Then she discovered that her hands trembled with impotence and, when it was time for dinner, she didn’t even come down to share the table with the count and his brother. She was extremely outraged. And how not to be? Would he pretend to share her bed even though he was engaged to another woman?

Then she decided to wait for him, wait until he dared to put one foot in her bedroom and even if he was blind, she would throw at him everything in her path. For being so disrespectful, so heartless. And if he really had the guts to go back to her bed after his meeting, would it be to inform her that he was engaged? Or would he keep it hidden until it was obvious?And although the hours passed, her frustration didn’t diminish. On the contrary, every minute only managed to infuriate her more and more. At times she hated him for not having gone immediately to her room to share his plans with her. For others she hated the idea of seeing his face once more.While she was thinking about it and, with a cigarette hanging between her fingers, the handle of the door turned and there he was. Upon entering she saw his nose pucker and knew that he was about to question why was she smoking, but when he was about to ask that question, he felt something hit his forehead and he was stunned. She had thrown something at him?

Sure enough, Bulma had thrown a brush at him, which was the first thing she found. Seeing him her blood boiled and before he could complain about it, she yelled at him.“How dare you to come to my room? You have no shame!”Vegeta raised an eyebrow, annoyed. Incredulous to what she had just done. And while he didn’t understand the reasons she would have to behave that way, he wasn’t going to insist on sleeping with her if she didn’t want to.

"I'll sleep in my own room," he growled, knowing that Tarble had already taken care of his mess.

“Don't you dare to leave!” She screamed, jumping on the bed to close the door before he could leave.

“What the hell?! Have you gone insane?!”

“What the hell is wrong with you!? Don’t you have any respect!? You are a scoundrel. You are atrocious!”

With each scream of exasperation, Bulma moved closer and closer to the count. Vegeta felt stunned by the tone of her accusations and, on his shirt, felt Bulma's finger pointing at him with force. He was confused, not knowing exactly what she intended. If she wanted him to leave, why did she get in that way between him and the door?

“Explain yourself woman!” He demanded.

“Explain myself? You are the one who owes me an explanation! How was your private meeting? Are you already making the preparations for the wedding?!”

The sudden change in his expression took her by surprise. He seemed relaxed and even took the boldness to tip a smile, as if mocking her.

"That's right..." he said with an air of amusement that only managed to enervate her even more.

She gasped. She had expected him to deny it, to lie in her face and not to admit it plainly.

“Congratulations! You must be very happy.”

“I do not know if that is the word, but yes… I’m quite satisfied.”

“And what? Are you going to invite me to the damned wedding?”

“I doubt there is any problem if you really want to go. Choose an appropriate dress for the event and I'll buy it for you.”

His teeth gleamed beneath his evil smile. Bulma couldn’t believe the cruelty of his words and couldn’t contain herself. She hit his chest with her fists, but he received the blows without problem.

“I hate you, Vegeta! You're a disgrace!”

And while her blows echoed over Vegeta's limp chest, her weak wrists were caught by his gloved hands.

“If you are going to spy on other people's conversations, it would be convenient for you to listen to them until the end... Tarble is the one who is going to get, not me.” Bulma froze as she heard his words and, as she realized what he had said, he continued in a calm tone that at the same time sounded threatening. “Why are you so upset with the idea that it's me who gets married?” He finally asked, gently dragging her wrists over him.

The girl's face was dyed vermilion. Despite knowing that he couldn’t see her in the eye, she averted his gaze, distressed by the scene she had set. He was not going to get married, and yet the idea had driven her crazy.

“Why?” He asked again, at her lack of response.

“Why are you so upset?”

Not knowing what to answer, she found herself prey to his voice, to the closeness of his body. And upon hearing the truth, she felt disarmed. Unable to invent an answer to get out of that dilemma.

“Because if you get married... I want it to be with me.”

Vegeta, admired by her response, felt just as surprised as she was. Incredulous too. Suddenly, without witty words and naked in front of her absolute sincerity, he didn’t know what to say. He was stunned, the game was finally over and she had exposed the reality of their relationship. She had bravely revealed what they had been weaving without realizing, from the moment they had met.And now, knowing that he was not going to marry any other woman, she felt an uncontrollable inclination to kiss him. The grip he held on her wrists became soft and she found in his expression how surprised he was at her words. Bulma, tempted by the closeness of their bodies, raised a hand still warped in Vegeta’ grip and took his glasses.

The count frowned, slightly uncomfortable. He had managed to feel protected through them and, when Bulma took them off, he resumed to that uncomfortable feeling. Of the bitterness of not being able to see her face.

Finally, she, invaded by the strong blow of her heart, approached his face and kissed him softly. Vegeta felt the velvety softness of her lips caressing his and closed his eyes. And in that moment; he discovered how natural it was to join in a kiss in absolute darkness.

He heard the glasses fall to the ground and the tenderness of her kiss returned, intoxicated by a desire that he had felt repressed for a very long time. In the darkness of his mind, he wrapped his hands around her waist and slowly stroked her back. He felt with his fingertips the fabric of her corset and gently drew her folds, imagining her figure.

Bulma's fingers landed on his jaw and very slowly, she caressed it until she reached his hair and became entangled in it. The soft hairs on the back of his neck bristled with her touch, with the tender caresses of her hands. And, unable to restrain himself, he placed his big hands on Bulma's small back and dragged her against his chest.

Their wet mouths broke their bond, beginning to slightly pant their breaths. But the count, who hadn’t had enough of her, bent down to savor her once more. Bulma felt his tongue urgently part her lips and let herself caress intimately by it. She embraced his torso and his kiss became more passionate. More desperate. As if both had been longing for it for more time than they would be able to admit.

In that moment of absolute sincerity, Bulma dragged her snowy hands on the count's chest and felt his pulse accelerate as she wandered around his neck. Then she spread her fingers over his shirt, under his jacket and to him it felt like an urgent request. Suddenly the clothes had become a nuisance for both of them, and without exchanging words, he undid his jacket and dropped it carelessly on the floor. And in that instant, without neglecting his lips, she began to unbutton the same buttons that she had buttoned in the morning. One by one, slowly.

And since he could not see her expression, nor her heated gesture, Vegeta used his senses to examine her.

While she unbuttoned his shirt, he traveled with his lips to her neck and kissed her impatiently. He stroked her back with his hands and felt her tremble beneath his touch. He heard a moan escape her lips as she felt his nose sliding down her neck. He ran his thumb under her chest and felt her accelerated breathing beneath her ribs. Bulma ran her hands over the count's bare skin and slid his shirt down his broad torso. She felt his warm breath permeate her white skin and her body shuddered. And, having him in front of her bare-chested, she knew that the time had come to do the same.

She brought her hands to her own back and slowly began to untie the knots in her dress. He paced with his tongue around her neck, breathing the scent of her skin, to return over her mouth and join her again. Then he tangled his fingers in hers and began to part the edges of her corset with some desperation.

She moaned his name and only managed to make him more anxious. He was beginning to want to break that dress and toss it aside. And at the same time; he felt helpless because he couldn’t see the figure that waited for him under her clothes.

Finally, the fabric of her corset fell to the floor and Bulma felt the breeze from the window caress her skin. However, she didn’t feel cold. Her skin burned, her chest felt hot.

She watched Vegeta take a hand to his mouth to tear off a glove, which was preventing him from feeling perfectly every inch of Bulma's skin. And seeing that manly gesture, she kissed him again with greater impetus. Their naked chests became one and, among wild kisses, Vegeta let out an impatient snort. He withdrew the other glove and stroked the naked back of the woman lying in his arms. When his fingertips ran down her back, she felt a great chill as she felt them on her hip, anxiously searching for the tie that held her skirt in place. When he found it, he soon disarmed it. His fingers were nimble, and when the skirt fell to the ground, under Bulma's legs, she felt suddenly anxious.

They both held their breath, there was only one more piece of clothing to get rid of before they were equal. But before hurrying over the count's trousers, Vegeta traced Bulma's bare hip and pressed it against his. He heard her moan softly, had finally felt how much he wanted her.

He kissed her neck and paced her collarbone until he breathed heavily on her shoulder. Touching every bare inch of her skin.

Bulma hugged his back and arched instinctively, feeling his fingers press against her skin, dragging her suggestively up to him.

There was a certain naturalness in what they was doing, even if it was the first time. Her legs trembled under his touch, and yet, though her knees trembled slightly, she dared to bring her hands to the button of his pants.The Count sighed deeply as he felt her soft hands move across his chest to stop over his navel. Delicately she unbuttoned it and swallowed hard. She tangled her fingers in his and, biting her lips, invited him to her bed.She sat on the mattress and slowly lay down on him. She put her hands on his neck and dragged him to her face to kiss him again.Vegeta heard her moan when he put a hand over her breast and squeezed it gently. Then he dragged his thumb over the soft skin of her nipple and rocked it over her drawing small circles. He abandoned her mouth, suddenly, to kiss her breast, licking and nibbling gently, again and again, heavily breathing hot air over her. Her chest was rocking rapidly, like did her breaths. Intoxicated by a warm sensation between her legs, Bulma clung to the count's hair and invited him to taste her to his liking, moaning with pleasure, biting her lips not to scream his name.He knew that he couldn’t bear much longer to possess her, without feeling her completely and, confronting his forehead with hers, he spoke with some difficulty.

“Are you sure?” He asked, he needed a confirmation to continue.

"I am..." she whispered.

The count pulled down his pants, just enough to leave his sex exposed, but Bulma felt some embarrassment and could barely observe him. She gulped without knowing exactly what she should do and let him continue.Vegeta felt her body stiffen and wondered again how ready she was to do it.

"Easy..." he said, sensing a certain fear.

“It's the first time that...” she answered incredibly embarrassed.

“I'll be careful...” he promised.

He stroked her chest slowly and torturously, hot and agitated, wet from his kisses. He wandered between her breasts and kissed her neck while continuing his course. He passed over her navel and swung around her hip. Then he stroked her legs and squeezed his fingers on her thighs. He spread her legs gently and listened carefully to her moans, anticipating the fate of his hands. He brought his fingers up to her inner knee and positioned himself there, in the hottest spot of her entire body.

Vegeta listened to her fast breathing, trying to control his own. He slid his fingertips over the snowy skin of her legs and finally reached her sex. Bulma let out a moan when she felt him in her most intimate place. Her knees trembled once again, and the count turned his movements extremely slow. He moved his fingers over her sex and parted her lips. A hoarse moan escaped her throat as he discovered its moisture, and she, on the other hand, felt terribly ashamed. Instinctively she took him by the arm, as if trying to stop him, but he moved his fingers on the wet skin of her sex and shook her completely. He arched her back still clinging to the count's arm and he delighted in her moans and the way she clung to him, unable to control the sensations his touch gave her. So shocked as she was embarrassed, she tried to contain her reaction without knowing the pleasure it produced for him just by listening to her.Vegeta bit his lip. The room had flooded with her soft moans and he was dying to see her naked body, shining with her own sweat and the trace of his kisses.

Tempted to touch it further, he searched with his finger for the exact point where their bodies would join and entered the tip of his finger there, slowly and smoothly. He felt her almost surrendered to him, under his body. He knew that the time had come, her body was ready.He secured his knees on the mattress and took himself, approaching her body, based purely on the touch of her bare skins. Bulma trembled when she felt her most intimate area, caressed by his. The count breathed deeply as he felt her soft, damp texture connecting with his, and he paced over it, rocking gently before entering it. Once ready, he began to push gently and slowly, and with each movement of his hip a gasp came from Bulma's throat.

In that instant, something burned inside her, where their bodies embraced. A whimper that carried some pain was heard and he stopped immediately. He could barely stand the pressure on his sex, the delicious way her body contracted when she felt him inside. Bathing it from its humidity. However, and making a maximum effort to regain his composure, he remained motionless when he heard her.

Vegeta had no way of verifying that her words were true, that this was really the first time she had sex with a man and, in spite of that, there was nothing that made him doubt. It seemed impossible to him that she could feign those reactions, that sincere form in which her muscles contracted, the innocent way in which his knees made her tremble.

“Do you want me to continue?” He asked.

“Yes...” she answered, sure that she would be able to endure that first feeling of pain.

It was something she had anticipated, from the little information she had... She knew it would hurt that first time. And, despite this, she had managed to experience sensations of sublime pleasure until that moment. She closed her eyes tightly and tried to relax and wait for him to continue.

Vegeta took her by the chin and turned her face to his. She felt his agitated breathing caress her face and kissed her. He invaded her with the taste of his tongue and bit her lips, trying to distract her from the throbbing pain beneath her navel. He pinched her nipples gently and felt her moans choke inside her throat. And, leaning on his elbow, with his opposite hand he returned to that place that made her contract and moan uncontrollably. Returning to rock his hip over hers, he accompanied himself with cheeky touch of his fingers. She moaned louder and just from listening to her accelerated the movement of his body over Bulma's fragile sex.

The movement of his fingers became frantic and beneath them, he felt with pleasure how her humidity increased. Finally, he had managed to fill her with himself, and an inconceivable snort came from his lips, full of pleasure.

Bulma grabbed his back and Vegeta adjusted her legs so he could feel her perfectly. He rammed her slowly and accelerated his rhythm to the sound of her moans, which began to sound more pleasurable with the passing of the minutes.

After getting used to him, the sensation of his sex sliding inside her began to cause her an uncontrollable pleasure and without realizing it, she now rocked her hip to adjust to his movements. Feeling his member deeper and deeper, more intimate.

The wet sensation was exquisite, but Vegeta's hands running all over her body didn’t let her bring her attention to a single sensation. Every part of her body experienced a certain pleasure, even to hear him gasping with each thrust was delicious. Vegeta then knelt on his knees and, taking her by the hip, dragged her a crossed the bed. Despite knowing that he couldn’t see her body completely naked, she still felt embarrassed, intimidated. But not because he was doing something that she did not want, it was simply because this was the first time.

Again, she felt his fingers on that point so intricate and new that she was barely discovering and writhing under his hands. A sensation unlike any other crossed her from her lower abdomen to the tips of her toes, like an electric shiver. After listening to her and feeling her trembling, he penetrated her again while holding her legs. Again, and again, and in each thrust, he felt an overwhelming urgency, a primordial need to feel her, to travel to the most private of her spaces. Stronger, quicker. Until he began to fall apart on her, releasing hoarse moans without losing the contact of her intimacy. He gasped his last breaths, and felt her tremble for a moment. Even inside her, he continued to thrust more gently. Until, in the end, he gulped and left her. He could barely breathe.

Bulma watched his shiny forehead and stroked his face to kiss him one last time. Her heart still hit her ribs hard, but it seemed that this glorious act had come to an end. Vegeta turned on the bed, catching his breath.

Bulma covered herself with the unarmed sheets of her bed and looked towards the window. Now she could feel the icy breeze of winter lags coming in through the window. She got up from the bed and a slight moan escaped her lips. She closed the window and turned to see the man lying exhausted on the mattress. She couldn’t contain the unapologetic smile on her lips and wondered how different she would feel from now on, after having made love. She went back to lie on the bed, under the covers and widened her smile to feel him accompany her, surrounding her with his arm, stroking her waist.

“Does it hurt?” He asked, his nose brushing her ear.

"Just a little..." she said and felt his fingers circling the circumference of her navel.

“What are you doing?” She asked curiously and without realizing her face had reddened again. Bulma wasn’t sure what was happening. She didn’t know much about sex, but she could have sworn everything was over. However, she felt the count's erection press on her back and she couldn’t believe it. Would they do it again?

"You're not finished yet..." he whispered, dragging his fingers to her sex and a new throb surprised her in her own body.

“How do you know?”

“I just know.”Bulma wasn’t sure what he was referring to. Her inexperience was obvious and, despite that, she didn’t want to seem so ignorant about sex.

"There..." he began, touching her at that point and Bulma moaned softly, "does it hurt?”

“N-no...”

With one arm he circled her and caressed her breasts, sensitive after so many kisses and bites. He imprisoned her between his muscles and shamelessly touched that moist space between her legs. Bulma writhed, intoxicated by his hands and by the deep and warm breath of the count on her neck. She wanted to ask him to stop, she closed her legs tightly feeling a wave whipping inside her, emanating from that little point of her intimacy. She moaned loudly and trembled, restrained beneath Vegeta's muscles. But when her body succumbed to a last moan and her body seemed to surrender completely, he stopped touching her and although he was excited, he stopped.Suddenly, Bulma felt as if all the energy in her body had been drained. As if every muscle in her body was exhausted. She felt tired, and could barely turn over on the bed to see him and embrace his torso.He seemed satisfied, he had an almost malevolent smile on his face and was surprised that he hadn’t continued after what he had done. Maybe, because she had told him that she was feeling a little sore. Maybe, she thought. Maybe he stopped because of that.Huddled close to him, she felt his thumb wandering leisurely down her back. Probably that moment would have been the happiest for her, in a long time. She had never felt so calm and sheltered as there, as now.

"It's strange..." she said and he was silent. “Who would have thought that we would end up like this after that dance where we met?”

He smiled suddenly. Bulma saw his profile and wondered what was going through his mind.

“You really don’t remember? Well... you were just a little girl...”

“What are you talking about?”

“That was not the first time we met.”

“What? I'm sure I haven’t seen you before, I would remember someone as rude as you.”

Maybe it was for the absolute tranquility that was breathed in that bedroom, or for being so exhausted, or maybe he just wanted to finally tell her.

“Little after my grandfather's funeral, I went riding Storm. He was... hard enough to control at that time. I took a break and before I knew it the damned animal had fled... He was the last gift he gave me... and I guess that's why I went looking for him. I spent hours trying to find it. Until you showed up. You had fed him your carrot cake, you told me you hated it. You were in a meeting not far away... You were mounted on your horse, holding Storm’s reins. You gave it back to me and, I suppose your parents called you to meet you again.”

“Was that why you invited me to dance that night?”

“You were the least unpleasant face I could find.”

Bulma wanted to argue with him, but instead she laughed quietly and rested her head on his torso and, when she was about to answer him, she fell fast asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally they did it, I hope it wasn't very vulgar. I don't know the tone of the sexual scenes in English, I have read only a few and I think they call it smut, if someone could explain to me if that is what I wrote, I would appreciate it. In Spanish we call it "lemon". Anyway, I hope you liked it.   
> Next chapter spoilers: Tarble learns about his engagement!


	24. Chapter XXIV

* * *

** IN YOUR HANDS **

* * *

 

**Chapter**

-XXIV-

* * *

 

In the morning he woke up and listened to the breathing of the woman with whom he had spent the night with. But unlike the previous nights, this time he was embraced by her. Memories of the previous night returned to him, memories of pure sensations, of textures and tastes. He knew that she was asleep beside him and, realizing what had happened, and without a pressing need invading all his senses, he realized the terrible mistake he had made.

He couldn’t have such bad luck… he feared, a fear that gradually grew within him, something that would maybe come true. After all, it wasn’t the first time he had sex with a woman, and fortunately he had never received kinship claims.

He had barely awakened and was already thinking about catastrophic ideas. He had slept with Bulma and couldn’t deny that it had been an unparalleled experience. Not only because of how much he had wanted her all that time, but also because of his lack of vision, that allowed him to experience sex in a different way. As if his senses had been on the surface of his skin for every second. As if his orgasm had been the most desired of his life.

He felt Bulma's body stir just next to him. She looked at him and didn’t hide her smile, there was no one to hide it from, she was completely free to make the gestures that she wanted to and be safe from his ironic comments or pretentious mockery. She was happy.

"Good morning... We should take a bath," she said, getting up from the bed and for a moment, Vegeta couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

Had she asked if they could bathe together? No, it wasn’t what he’d heard. She had informed him that they would.

There wasn’t much reason for him to refuse, the very thought heated his face up and before he decided to get out of bed; he heard the water dripping into the tub. He sat up and waited sitting without saying anything. Bulma seemed to dance inside the bathroom and even heard her hum a song. In those few seconds that he spent alone in the room, he remembered the way in which the events of the previous night had unfolded and, above all, the way in which she had confessed to him that she wished to be his wife.

He was still shocked to remember, the confidence in her tone was accurate, determined. He felt stinging on his skin, uncomfortable, not knowing exactly why. But she didn’t know what she was talking about. She was confused, she hadn’t really considered what it meant to marry someone like him, someone in his state. And, thinking about it, he wondered if Bulma was thinking that, because they had sex, she would think he wanted to marry her too.

An inevitable knot formed in his throat, unable to know with certainty what she was thinking and fearing having to ask her directly.

Then he remembered telling her about that first time they had met. What was happening to him? Since when had he become so open with her?

He had finally revealed the real reason why he had invited her to that first dance, and at that moment he did not even know if she would have listened to him or been asleep during the whole story.

That time, annoyed at having to show up for that dance at the request of his younger brother, he was surprised to see her face again. It had been many years, but her face was the same. It had to be her. And he didn’t know why, but there wasn’t anyone else in the whole event with whom he could tolerate sharing a dance, except her, of course. The girl who had returned the last gift of his deceased grandfather.

"The bath is ready," she said in a pleasant tone, peering through the door.

Would she be depressed if he told her that he didn’t plan on getting married, even after having taken away her virginity? What kind of garbage was he? Suddenly a terrible sensation crept through his stomach, the guilt of having succumbed to his most basic instincts when she kissed him. When she ran her fingers under his jacket and he surrendered to her inexperienced sensuality.

However, he couldn’t tell her that they wouldn’t marry, just like that, so blatantly. Even with the scent of her body on him, with her kisses fresh on his lips. So he got up without saying anything and walked to the bathtub, trying to prolong that quiet environment for as long as possible.Vegeta went into the bathroom and, as he had done a couple of days ago, got into the bathtub and sat there trying to simulate a state of calm. His face caught fire when he heard her feet submerging under the water a few inches away from him. His insubordinate heart hit him hard in the chest and he gulped when he felt her sitting between his legs.

“Can you help me?” she asked and a slight blush stained the count's cheeks.

"How..." he began to question her when she put a sponge on his hands.

"Just... rub me," she answered and only managed to increase the desperate heartbeat of Vegeta's heart.The implicit suggestion of her words had left him breathless. As if tasting the taste of her skin wouldn’t have served to slow his desire but, on the contrary, it lit it on fire.

His hands trembled with doubt after hearing her words, charged with tension, seductive and slightly shy. He wanted to hold tightly to the edges of the tub until he broke them, but tried to remain stoic and pretend his growing excitement. He took a breath and lifted his wet hands and touched Bulma's bare back slowly. He felt her shudder under his big hands and that small tremble of her small body accelerated him. His face boiled up to his ears, his chest throbbed and all his strength vanished as he heard a small sigh leave her lips. He massaged her back as she had asked, beginning to say goodbye to the sanity that he has left. Bulma hadn’t noticed the count’s altered, she was rather contained in the sensations of her own skin. It seemed that this morning she had woken up with more confidence than the day before, and she felt more comfortable with her nakedness, assimilating truly that he couldn’t see her.

It wasn’t as if she were unsure of herself, it was simply a new experience that she was just beginning to get used to. Maybe, if she could look at her naked body with his eyes, she would feel more ashamed, but his blindness, even if it was unfortunate, had helped her feel more comfortable with the closeness of their naked bodies. And while Bulma felt Vegeta's hands carving her body, she heard him ask.

“How you feel?”

She knew immediately that this question was inherently linked to what they had done the night before.

"I do not feel so sore anymore... but..." she said with some doubt and the blush on her cheeks intensified.

“But?” The count questioned, ignoring his excitement as he genuinely felt worried. He feared he had hurt her without realizing it, since he hadn’t had the opportunity to see her and simply relied on her body's responses and to the sound of gasps to determine how much pleasure she would be experiencing. But maybe that hadn’t been enough, maybe he had hurt him. Bulma doubted that feeling because, although it didn’t bother her, it was strange. “But what?” He rebuked her again.

“It's strange... I feel that...” she hesitated again, but she had already begun and maybe it would be good to tell him, “I feel as if you were still... there.”

The count's face flared again and his heart hit him hard in the throat. Bulma's confession, far from worrying him, accelerated him further and the little sanity he had left helped him control his own hands. Suddenly, he leaned her heated forehead against Bulma's back and remained silent, she wasn’t making it any easier.

“It is normal?” She asked, shuddering as she felt the count's breaths on her snowy skin.

"I don’t know..." Vegeta confessed.

“I had never done it with a virgin.”

The idea of being the first virgin woman with whom Vegeta had gone to bed with made her smile, but, unwittingly, she brought to mind a conversation she had had with Raditz before and a doubt arose.

“Can I ask you a question?”

The count suddenly feared what she planned to ask him, would it be about marriage? Would he have to confront her now?"It depends," he answered doubtfully.

“On what?”

 _On what?_ He asked himself, unable to find anything coherent to answer.

“What do you want to know?” He questioned, believing that after her blunt response hell would unleash on him.

“Why did you like to sleep with married women?”

Vegeta was totally silent, he didn’t know whether to feel relieved because that question wasn’t about a future marriage, or uncomfortable because of what his ears were listening.

“What?” He replied incredulously.

“You heard me...”

In Bulma's tone there was a hint of shyness. Vegeta didn’t know what her curiosity was due to and he wasn’t sure how to answer that doubt. Could it be that her question was motivated exclusively by jealousy and not by mere curiosity?

“Well... it was exciting,” he decided to answer in a playful tone.

He had the sponge on her shoulder when he said that to her, and he felt under the soap and moisture of her skin, how she stirred, enervated by his response. Before she could get away, he slipped his hand to her ribs and felt her shudder, her ragged, nervous breathing fascinated him and he brought his other hand to her narrow waist. Each new touch made her vibrate without remedy, and when she was about to complain, she felt herself being dragged and the bare skin of her back stuck to that of the count's chest.

“You're so…”

“What? I'm not lying... it was fun, to go to their homes when their husbands went on a trip, to leave without anyone seeing me... The permanent feeling of danger... it was exciting,” he whispered in her ear, running her naked body with the sponge.

“That's the reason?” she asked with tight lips, looking away from the fateful path of his hands, trying not to pay attention to the shameless tone of the words he whispered in her ear. “That’s it? Danger excites you?”

He could sense, at that moment, that there was something more beneath those questions. That behind that cloak of shyness that lived in her voice, there was something else. He frowned, confused, and trying at the same time not to lose that mocking essence that emanated while caressing her. But, even though he thought about it, he didn’t know what that sudden curiosity was about.

In that instant he wished he could see again, and so he would take her chin and look her in the eyes to get the truth out of them. Her face was extremely expressive, he knew that if he watched her directly he would end up disarming her façade to discover the truth.

“What do you really want to know?” he asked, knowing that he had exhausted all the ways of his other senses.

“Well…”

She let out a sigh when she felt Vegeta's chin rest on her shoulder, waiting for her response with some curiosity.

“How many women have you slept with?”

The count felt his heart stop when Bulma finished formulating her long-awaited question. His skin felt icy, as if the temperature of the water had suddenly dropped.

“What kind of question is that!?” He said.

Now he felt trapped inside that bathtub, restless and eager to get up and leave.

“I think it's unfair. You know that I've only been intimate with only one man, but I... I don’t know, I just wanted to know. How many? Four five?”

And despite the fact that the claim to be the only man in Bulma's life had given him some satisfaction, it didn’t last long. Her guess about the number of women he had slept with was far less than the real one, although he was sure he couldn’t answer her with such sincerity.

“Why do you want to know?”

“I just want to know... that's all.”

“Do you need to know?” He said, reformulating his question.Bulma sighed and wandered in his words. Why did she needed to know?

“Well... no, I don’t need to know. It wouldn’t change the image I have of you... It just seems fairer that way, you know how many men I've been, I think I should know the same about you, right?”

Feeling cornered and annoyed, he sighed and finally leaned back against the tub. Bulma felt his big hands leave her body, the sponge floated between them and she turned to see his face. His appearance seemed irritated, however, he agreed to respond.

“I honestly don’t know, it's not like I have being counting...”

“How is it possible that you don’t know?”

The idea seemed inadmissible, with how many women would he have had sex with to begin to forget?

“At first yes, I was aware of how many they were, but... with time I simply lost the notion. It's not a big deal.”

“You don’t remember them?”

“I did not say I don’t remember them; I just don’t keep the count.”

She was quite dissatisfied with his brief response. She knew that perhaps she could never know for sure how many beds the count would have passed through. But he was right in one thing, she really didn’t need to know, it was more of a morbid curiosity on her part based on the inequality between them.

Defeated, she lay down on the count's chest and felt him swallow hard. Maybe she couldn’t know who he had slept with before, but it really wasn’t important. She soaped her legs, lifting them in the air from time to time and pleased to remain there, watching the count's arms cling to the edges of the tub. His muscles seemed immobile, trapped in an accurate grip under his skin. Bulma looked at the path marked by his veins, incipient, throbbing, wondering what he was thinking.

Vegeta tried to control himself and not make the same mistake he made the night before, and end up feeding ideas that she would very possibly be forming. However, Bulma's moans of pleasure still echoed in his memories, the feel of their bodies together, the scent of her skin. He clenched his teeth and frowned, closing his eyes and waiting for her to finish bathing to end that torture.

Then he felt her gently rocking under the water and her body throbbed uncontrollably. He felt betrayed by himself, by the desire of his own skin. He tried to divert the thoughts from his mind, but couldn’t continue when he felt Bulma lean on him and rest her forehead on his cheek. He turned his face to her and felt her lips brush against his skin. The only sound that reached his ears was that of Bulma's warm breathing and the water, barely stirring between their bodies.

Somehow, Vegeta felt that she was asking for it. That she was bordering him to take the first step of that inevitable path. He moved his face a few inches, but that small movement only managed to bring him closer to the source of his sighs and whatever was left of his sanity vanished. No matter how much he reasoned and tried to convince himself not to do it, it was impossible to put out the desire he felt for her.

He kissed her on the lips and released the edges of the tub, searched her waist and felt her moan beneath her lips. He dragged his big hands to her breasts and squeezed them harder than the night before. Bulma moaned complacently and shuddered as she felt his excitement hit her back. And although an overwhelming sensation began to cross her, she wanted him. She had thought about it when she woke up and counted the minutes so that he would kiss her again with the same desire. As he did at that moment.She rocked instinctively beneath his expert hands. The water began to shake with force and it left dismissed by the sides, Bulma’s feet removed ecstatically and without wanting she pulled the plug on the bathtub. The water began to fade while they kissed, leaving with its wet trail the exposed skin of both of them. But how to feel cold when every inch of her skin burned with desire for her?

When the water had completely gone down, they were still there, almost without noticing it. Bulma's hands had been wrapped in the count's hair, like a plea that forced him closer and closer to her. He felt the soft texture of her nipples under his fingertips, caressing them and then squeezing them and listening with pleasure to the tone of her moans. She wanted him, there was no doubt, she wanted to feel one with him again.And he, although he knew he was a fool, couldn’t control himself.He lowered his hands down her abdomen, caressed the curve of her waist and touched her legs, squeezing her skin, dragging her so that she felt his desire hit her back.

Suddenly he heard his own name lost in a moan impregnated with pleasure and he lost it, hiding his face in the curve of her neck. He wanted to bite her skin, but no, he couldn’t leave her in evidence. Instead, he dragged his nose down her long, unpolluted neck and gently bit into her earlobe. He lost a hand between her legs and pleased discovered her moisture.

Bulma was surprised to feel his hands taking her legs, dragging her over his torso and settling under her. His sex throbbed urgently and she dared to spy while he searched with his fingertips for that intimate space he would make his own once again.

Again, she felt the softness of his erection, searching for her, stirring, trying to join her. Then, Bulma dared to help him. His face had turned flushed and his eyebrows arched in a pleasant gesture. She clung to the tub and tried to sit on him, as he rocked again and again, slowly, slowly filling her with his erection.

Vegeta listened to Bulma's moans, biting his lips, trying not to hurry and keep the little calm he had left. He rested his hand under her navel, spreading his fingers and slowly helped her to settle into him.

* * *

The bathroom was soaked. She continued to pant her breaths gently, clinging to the edge of the tub. Vegeta was leaning back behind her, wondering if was useful to take a bath if it would end that way.

Returning to regretting what had happened, promising that this would be the last time.

When she came out of the bathroom to get dressed, Bulma glanced over the sheets. The unarmed bed was a witness to what had happened the night before and she could clearly see the pink spots between the fabric. Her face instantly ignited and she ripped the sheets from the mattress, fearing that, in the afternoon, the cleaning girls would see the irrefutable evidence that she had lost her virginity.

“What are you doing?” Vegeta's husky voice brought her out of her thoughts, she looked over her shoulder, he was adjusting the shirt that she had just give him. Fortunately, he couldn’t see what was there, hidden among the crumpled sheets.

She felt ashamed and didn’t know exactly how to justify what she was doing, since she had stopped working for that house for quite some time.

“Nothing! Don’t worry, it's nothing...” she babbled hurriedly and left the room as soon as possible.

The count didn’t take long to understand what was going on around him and a funny smile escaped his lips. He was amused by how sorry she felt for something so terribly natural. But, at that moment, he didn’t feel like making fun of her and let her go without questioning her anymore.

He began to worry terribly about everything, that morning, the night before, because of Bulma's confession. And, putting all that aside, he still had a couple of issues to settle with Tarble and they seemed to be the easiest to solve at the moment.

Bulma went down the stairs as quickly as her legs allowed and went to the service room trying to avoid the employees. She put the sheets on the sink and desperately searched for a soap to erase the mark of her lost virginity. She rummaged through the cupboards with some anxiety and when she finally found what she was looking for, she turned to the sheets and began to clean them. Suddenly, she heard the door through which she had entered and turned around, hiding what she was doing with her back.

Nathalie watched her terrified expression with curiosity. Her cheeks flashed vermilion and she froze as she saw the uncomfortable situation in which she seemed to be. She leaned down without saying anything, trying to take a look at what she was hiding.

“Cleaning?” she asked, trying to disguise how funny her expression was.

“Is nothing! Don’t worry, I'll take care of it.”

“Please, Bulma. You don’t have to, I can help you,” she said, approaching dangerously.

Cornered, she interposed between Nathalie and the sheets, but she was too close to hide her true intentions. The girl took one look and managed to see the pink marks splashed on the untainted fabric. Puzzled, she turned to her friend's congested face and after a few seconds, her annoyed expression turned pure amazement.

"Did you?" She began, and found herself repressed under Bulma’s hands of Bulma, who had covered her lips anxiously.

“Nobody can know!”

“Quiet, give me the soap, I'll help you clean it. It will be faster if we do it together.”

Immediately Nathalie snatched the bar of white soap from Bulma's hands and rolled up the sleeves of her dress. Distressed by the idea that someone else could enter, she had no choice but to accept her help.

“Thank you Nath, I cannot let anyone see this...”

“The Count?” she asked, smiling mischievously. “You were pretty upset yesterday, when you asked me for cigarettes...”

“Yes, well... it was a confusion...”

“It seems that everything ended better than expected. And well... how was it?”

“I do not think we should talk about it here; someone could listen to us.”

“Calm down, the others are taking care of breakfast. At least you enjoyed it? I mean, the first time can be something unpleasant.”

“It wasn’t unpleasant... It was good...”

“How good? It's funny, I did not think he was going to do it like that, without being able to see.”

“Really good, to be honest. It wasn’t as complicated as I thought, it was quite... natural.”

“And now what?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know how to behave. I made an imprudence last night, Nathalie... We're not married, he didn’t even ask me to marry him. On the contrary, I told him that I wanted to be his wife...”

“What did he say?”

“Nothing, he was petrified.”

“Typical. Bulma, I know you're the type of woman who has been raised to have one man in her life, but I don’t think it's wrong for you... to experiment a bit before getting married. You are young, you are beautiful and very intelligent. Be clever, many times men end up chasing what they cannot have.”

“Do you think I made a mistake?”

“Not at all. It was your first experience, but if you want him to marry you, you have to be smarter. He already knows what your intentions are, now you must know what his are.”

After getting dressed, he knew there was something he had to do. Bulma had reminded her, with some regret while they were drying, after having made love to her for the second time.

_“When will you tell Tarble what you plan to do?”_

Of course, he didn’t expect it to be a pleasant conversation, it was the same conversation he had had with his own father many years ago. And like him, at that moment, there would be no way he could refuse. It was his duty. Also, he had to wait for him to process that first news to inform him of the second... Which was probably the most complicated.

When he went down the stairs he heard his voice not far away, then the door of the entrance closed and the young man remained there waiting for him. It was impossible for him to see the agonized face of his brother. His frown and worried look escaped his knowledge.

Tarble nervously stirred, not knowing exactly how to tell Vegeta his news, he had already had too much in the last days and Tarble didn’t have much desire to disturb him, now that he looked so calm. But his worry grew uncontrollably and he felt somewhat overwhelmed, although he couldn’t admit it directly.

“Who was that?” Vegeta asked his brother.

“Nobody... I just told the nurse that she could leave. I think hiring her wasn’t a good idea after all.”

“Did you just realize?” He questioned and after that, Tarble didn’t answer, he was still trying to sort out his thoughts. The count, although he couldn’t see him, noticed something strange in the environment and when he came down the stairs he asked:

“What happens?”

“We have a problem…”

 _“Another one?”_ The count asked himself without being able to say it out loud, between his blindness, the investigation into Black's disappearance and Bulma's confession, he wasn’t sure if he was in the mood to deal with something else.

“Speak.”

“The House of Lords approved a new legislation on imports.”

“I suppose we got screwed, otherwise you wouldn’t be so worried.”

“It's quite complex, the voting was even... You should have occupied your seat before this happened.”

“You know that I hate those meetings, besides, do you want me to go there blind and let everyone realize it?”

“Of course not... but this is a problem for us. We have invested a large part of our capital in the sale of imports. If they limit them, we can say goodbye to half our fortune.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t worry so much about that...”

“What are you talking about?”

The air became tense. It was time to announce the plans he had for him. Tarble waited strangely for him to explain himself and contemplated his brother's iron expression until he finally spoke.

“In a few days you will receive a dowry. I suppose you can invest it in something more lucrative.”

“What did you say?” he asked, as if his words didn’t make any sense.

“What you listen. Yesterday I engaged you with marquis Hamilton’s daughter.”

Tarble was speechless, his heart had stopped almost completely and he was watching his brother without believing what he had just heard. He looked into his eyes, in vain, only to see his own reflection blurred in the black crystal of his glasses. His arms felt incredibly heavy and, as if surrendering to him, he lowered his arms and looked at him incredulously. He inspected his expression for a sign that told him it was all a lie, but found nothing to give him away. Vegeta was being honest with him.

"You were capable of..." he stammered incredulously. “You have to be kidding, please tell me it's a joke of bad taste.”

“It is not. In the afternoon I will ask for the authorization to celebrate the nuptials. She will come in a few days for you to meet her, she will stay under my care until the wedding.”

“I don’t even know her!”

“Our father didn’t know his wife before he got married.”

“Sure, and look how that came out!”

“Calm down, Tarble. Don’t make a fuss about this. We have no other way out, or do you have a fiancee that you didn’t introduce to me?”

“That's not the point! I can’t believe you!”

It was the first time that Vegeta heard Tarble's voice so exalted. Not even that time, after the dance, he had been so effusive. He was furious, he could feel it, he was outraged and the anger was crackling in the pit of his stomach, ready to finally let out everything he really thought of his older brother.

“To what point do you have to get to avoid taking charge of your own responsibilities?! It's your fault that our father put that stupid clause in his will! Just for you to marry and have offspring, for you! Are you so infatuated with not fulfilling your father's last wishes as to avoid the most obvious solution? You've been sleeping with that woman for weeks and you still cannot ask her to marry you! Not even to save your own skin can you put aside your stupid pride. Did you have to drag me to this too?”

"Do you really think I'm going to marry for this mansion? For a stupid inheritance? You are the one who is most interested in our money! It has always been you. Why should I be the one to marry? Do I have to remind you that the will applies to all the men in the family? If it's not me, the next one on the line is you. And if you don’t, your imbecile cousin is the one who follows. Don’t dare to try to get rid of all your responsibility in this mess.”

“You didn’t even ask me...”

“I have nothing to ask you! You are my younger brother, whether you like it or not, I am the one who gives the orders here. And if you are so determined to keep this fortune, you already have a solution! You will marry her, whether you like it or not, as your father did.”

"You are impossible... I feel sorry for that poor woman, I really thought you had the guts to marry her. After all she's done for you, after how you've humiliated her and ruined her reputation. But if you come to me with this news, it is obvious that you don’t plan to marry her, you are a damn coward.”

“Do you want me to get married while being like this? Are you that stupid, Tarble? Stop pretending that you care, we both know what is the only thing that matters to you and that is to maintain your fortune. Congratulations! You will continue to be as rich as ever.”

“Thanks, Vegeta. You could have let me choose my own damn wife, don’t pretend to do me a favor.”

“You've had years to do it, but the only thing you've done all your life is to pressure me to do it.”

“You're an idiot. Maybe you're right, you're doing Bulma a favor by not marrying her. I congratulate you, maybe it's the only good deed you’ll do in your whole life.”

Tarble stormed out of that room anywhere in that mansion far enough from his brother. He couldn’t look him to the face, couldn’t believe his ears. He felt invaded, overwhelmed by the news that he was now engaged to a woman he didn’t even know.

Vegeta listened to his brother's furious steps away from him and stood there, hoping that nobody could hear that dreadful conversation, especially Bulma. Maybe there was some truth in Tarble's angry words. Perhaps he was infatuated with avoiding fulfilling his father's wishes, and perhaps he did her a great favor by preventing Bulma from marrying him. But there was no going back, Tarble would have to marry that young girl and he would eventually have to face Bulma with the truth and confess that he could never take her as his wife.

It had been several hours since that terrible conversation between Tarble and Vegeta. The air between them had become heavy, icy, and Bulma could feel it. She assumed that the young man had already learned that he was engaged and the news hadn’t been received with pleasure. It was to be expected, and in a way she felt sorry for him. Fortunately, she had never been put in a similar situation. Her father had been the kindest man she had ever met, and that had led him to let Bulma choose her own fiancé. Of course, always subject to the typical rules of courtship, which was very far from what she was living with the count.

Vegeta, on the other hand, didn’t seem very affected. The word marriage had acquired a weight without equal in the mansion and Bulma wasn’t the exception. She had confessed her true feelings to Vegeta and he had made love to her not once, but twice. And still he hadn’t had a moment to give her an adequate answer. In a way, it seemed outrageous. It was unheard of that he hadn’t make a moment in the day to talk about what would happen now between the two of them. And although everything was developing relatively normally, there was something uncomfortable permeating the air.

Nathalie's words still resonated in her mind and, in the end, not giving her an answer could also be considered as a response in itself. If he avoided it, it couldn’t be for anything good.She deeply feared to have hurried, although Nathalie had insisted otherwise. It was something she’d wanted for a long time and somehow, she needed it. She needed to confirm herself that her integrity hadn’t been compromised after all. That her spirit had not been subdued by Black after what he had done to her. Because, although she hadn’t completely forgotten, she didn’t want to live with his shadow in every corner of her privacy.At least now she had confirmed that she could make him disappear from her thoughts, that his ghost wasn’t permanently standing between them. However, she couldn’t shake the feeling of herself, the desire to demand an immediate response. Could she sleep with him without falling into temptation once more? Refusing his caresses until he deigned to give her a concrete answer?She thought that the simplest and most productive thing would be to concentrate on what she really cared about. She found herself, in the middle of the night, wearing the count's shirt and a stolen pair of pants, meticulously assembling the engine she had designed, alone in the vastness of the great hall.

As she looked out the window she realized that the night coat had sheltered the capital and she was afraid to return to her room to confront the count. But she was no coward, she had faced worse situations than and imagined that, in the worst case, she could cope with it with dignity. But, although her courage was great, she couldn’t release the pieces to stand up and go back to her room.At dawn, she was still working. Carefully placing each tiny gear in the right place, testing the operation of each piece little by little. And absorbed in her work, she didn’t notice that it was already morning.Exhausted and without excuses not to return to her own bed, she stood up and decided to smoke a cigarette before going to sleep. On the way she imagined the conversation she would have with Vegeta, fearing the worst. But as she walked she felt the sound of a crystal crashing to the ground in the middle of the gloom.Surprised, she went to the room where she had heard the glass break and found Tarble. He staggered, approaching a new glass cup since, apparently, the one he had brought had slipped from his hands. She watched him take a drink and take a sip.She had never seen her look ungainly. His shirt unbuttoned and his hair stirred. His congested face and the way in which he rocked without balance were very atypical of him.

“Tarble, is everything okay?” she said, approaching slowly.

He looked at her and smiled sarcastically. He laughed lightly and sat awkwardly on a sofa, letting himself fall like a sack. He held his glass, worried, as the liquid teetered dangerously inside the glass and he feared staining the chairs. And when the wine stabilized, he smiled again. He took a second look to her and laughed harder.

“What are you wearing?” He asked when he saw her dressed like a man.

“I'm sorry, I forgot to tell you that I took one of your pants. It's easier to work with them...” Bulma walked to the center of the room. Tarble's drunken face looked flushed in the dim light of the fireplace. “I think you're a little drunk...”

“A little? I think you are doing me a favor.”

“Don’t you think you had enough?”

“Oh, come on Bulma... You're talking to a happily engaged man. It's the least I can do to celebrate my future nuptials.”

She took a seat not far from him. Although she did not know him too much, she could empathize with that feeling that seemed to be overflowing Tarble.

“Well... I don’t think it was the most accurate decision Vegeta could make, but you still don’t know her. Maybe she’ll be a good wife to you.”

“The thing is that I never wanted to get married...” he finally confessed. “Why did it have to be me? Why couldn’t be him? I mean, my father put that clause for him. Everything always revolves around Vegeta.”

“Maybe marriage is not as bad as you think... I know that your parents' relationship was not the best, but my parents were married in the same way and their marriage was very happy.”

“This has nothing to do with my parents. All those ideas that marriage doesn’t work are pure ideas of Vegeta! I... I don’t want his responsibilities. I had other plans for my life, but it seems I've always been waiting for Vegeta's life to take a course to start with mine. I should have left here when I had the chance.”

“Tarble... I’m sorry, but I don’t understand what you're talking about.”

“Bulma... If Vegeta does not marry and never has an heir, eventually his title will be mine... I never wanted to be a count, I never wanted his responsibilities with the family. Yes, I'm good at it but it doesn’t mean I enjoy it. What I have always wanted is to travel the world, to know other countries... But if Vegeta does not marry and has heirs, I can not leave here without been worried all the time. I have always kept in mind that he must comply with that stupid clause... Otherwise, with what will I finance my own life if my money and property go to the next one? What kind of tranquility can I have if Vegeta behaves like an infatuated child and never marries? I'm not saying I didn’t want to get married, just... I want to live my life for myself and find the right person... Well, we say goodbye to that too. Vegeta has managed to make me fulfill the clause when it has always been intended for him. Father must be wallowing in his grave.”

He wiped from the corner of his black eyes a small tear that had formed, trying to hide his bitterness with a slight smile.On the other side, Bulma listened to his story with her heart in her hand. For, not only the dilemma into which Tarble was involved, but it also hurt to hear from Vegeta's reluctance to marry. Maybe, if he had engaged Tarble, it was because he had no intention of getting married either. What would be the use of forcing him to comply with the will if he planned to marry her? It didn’t make sense. Although in reality, it did. Bulma then arrived at the horrible certainty that Vegeta would never ask for her to marry him.

"Besides..." Tarble snapped suddenly. “He didn’t even care that I told him we might lose half our fortune. What the hell is he thinking?”

“Lose your fortune?”

“The House of Lords promulgated a new law on imports. Well, I suppose he's right about something, with that dowry I'll be able to invest and maybe I don’t have to worry about it. But, what could he do if he is blind?“Vegeta is a man of resources, I'm sure he must be thinking of something...”

“Whatever it is, I probably wouldn’t understand. He has a twisted mind...”

"I understand you," she said, tying to simulate her anguish. Tarble looked up and found Bulma's troubled face. She stood up and poured herself a drink, suddenly felt very stressed and didn’t even know if she should go back to her bedroom or not. How long could she avoid that inevitable conversation?

“I am sorry... if at some point I didn’t treat you as you deserved. I think I've been very selfish with my motives... The truth is, I was hoping that if I forced you to stay with Vegeta, eventually he would take the step foward and ask you to marry him.”

"You're not the only one..." Bulma muttered, to Tarble's surprise. “Your brother can be a great imbecile.”

The young man laughed, recovering little of his composure. He took another sip and looked at her with some empathy.

“Maybe he does, who knows what is going on in his mind now. One thing is certain, he had never behaved like that with another woman, nothing like that... I think I've never seen him with one.”“Maybe I won’t not available when he makes a decision.”

“He can force me to marry, but he cannot force me or you to stay by his side. I'll probably leave here as soon as I get married, and I'll get rid of him completely, as he wants. And what will happen to him later? Will he die alone, here in this mansion? I think he was blind even before his accident.”

“You cannot abandon him, Tarble. You are his brother.”

“And look what I got for being his brother... I can’t tell you to run while you can, but I'll give you some advice... Think about what you want for yourself, not him. Prioritize your future, with or without him...”

Bulma looked at Tarble and found conviction in his gaze. He spoke for his experience, for a life relegated to the background for prioritizing Vegeta's life to his own. Would she be willing to wait for Vegeta to open his eyes or take his advice and continue her life? Probably, if that horrific event with Black hadn’t happened, she would have left his side. The last humiliation she had suffered in the dance had been enough to leave him. But seeing how he took the reins of that situation, getting her away from that terrible evil, she ended up realizing that she was hopelessly in love with him. And maybe she would be for the rest of her life, but if he was not able to take it one step further, she would surely have to go her own way.

"I know you can handle this with dignity, Tarble..." she said before saying goodbye and returning to the great hall. Bulma was determined to finish with her project. Vegeta and his indecision could wait another day.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm dead, I think I'm going to take a day off translating. I hope you like this chapter!


	25. Chapter XXV

* * *

** IN YOUR HANDS **

* * *

Chapter

-XXV-

* * *

 

He ran his fingers under the sheets and was surprised to feel the icy cloth under his fingertips. He didn't know what time it was, he didn't know how much he had slept. But he knew one thing, Bulma hadn't returned to her bed that night and that certainty bothered him terribly.

He had spent the entire night thinking about what words to use to explain her why he couldn't marry her, as she expected. How could he to tell her that after sleeping with her? Above all, after knowing that he had been her first. It was a reality he had never faced. Vegeta was used to women who were already married to someone else in a particularly morbid way was his way of getting rid of that obligation, avoiding at all cost to get married to them. How could he feel compelled to marry a woman who was already married to someone else? Yes, it was fun, he hadn't lied about that. But his intentions went beyond a simple forbidden love affair. Vegeta had only become involved with women he could never call wife. It was time later, when a couple of them were widowed, that he found himself in the situation of cutting those ties to avoid moments like the one he was living now. Perhaps Diana was the only one with whom she had considered going back to bed, merely motivated by the frustration generated by Bulma.

However, all these thoughts had not culminated in that long-awaited conversation. Bulma hadn’t appeared.

He got out of bed and sniffed around the bathroom, listening carefully to any movement that betrayed the presence of someone else. But no, he was totally alone. And after dressing with great care and measuring the edges of his own shirt so as not to dress like a clown, he left the bedroom and heard the hustle and bustle on the first floor. Apparently, it was already day time, but where was she? She had apologized the night before to go to work and it seemed very unlikely that she had spent the night awake. Had she slept in another room? Was she intentionally avoiding him?

Vegeta couldn’t understand the reason why she could be avoiding him. Everything had gone too well until the moment she left the room, running with the sheets of her bed in her arms. Everything had been exceptionally pleasant, if he had to admit it. Then it made no sense for her to escape him, just like that. She still didn’t know his true intentions.

He went downstairs and asked the hour to an employee who greeted him politely. It was past noon and they were preparing everything to serve him lunch. When he sat down at the table, he waited patiently for Bulma's arrival, but discovered shortly afterwards that neither she nor Tarble would accompany him.

Coming from Tarble… it was understandable, he would probably still be hating him for his engagement. He didn’t know that his brother had gone to bed very late and was suffering the consequences of his exaggerated alcohol intake.

Bulma, on the other hand, gave no signs and he was uncomfortable having to look for her blindly or ask his employees for her. It wasn't until he heard Nathalie's voice that he felt an urgent need to talk to her.

"Nathalie?" He called in a tone impregnated with doubt, wondering if that was her name. Until that moment he hadn't paid much attention.

"Did you call for me, my Lord?" She replied intrigued, approaching the doorway.

Vegeta was sitting, tasting no bite of his plate. He set his silverware on the table and entwined his hands. The employee looked at his face, stopping in the red glasses he was wearing.

"Could you tell me if Bulma is out?"

“No sir. She is in the great hall, working. Do you want me to call her?”

"No... You can go now..."

He couldn't see the young woman’s smile who was retreating a little amused after hearing his question.Her answer had generated a bit of tranquility. She was in the mansion, she had not escaped. She was just working, but something was wrong. Why would she be so clinging to that project not to return to her own bed at night? He had been waiting for her. Of course, he wasn't going to admit it, it just intrigued him too much. Something was not quite right. At one time she encouraged him to share a bath with her, and the other she spent the whole night working away from him. It didn’t make sense.

Although, on the other hand, she was doing him a favor without realizing it. She was prolonging the time until that terrible conversation that awaited them.In the great hall, Bulma continued to work between yawns. Every so often she stretched her neck and back. She had slept on a forgotten and dusty old couch, which she shook a little before bedtime. When daylight woke her up, she took a quick snack and got to work once again. Fortunately, the hours flew away, inevitably. And she discovered that she had never felt so engrossed in a task as she was now. It seemed that, with each blink, the hours passed like minutes. If it wasn't for the fatigue of her own body, she probably could have continued working. But after noon she knew she would have to take a break. In addition, she would soon finish assembling that engine and would have to assemble it to a carriage to make it work. She would inevitably have to talk to Vegeta to use one of his cars. Or she could simply skip that link and go take one for herself. What she couldn't do was lift it alone to mount it. She needed help.

And when thinking about it with slight anguish, a familiar figure crossed the patio and smiled. Bulma saw him through the large windows, wandering the gardens with a carefree appearance. She’d still have to apologize for what had happened, about that last conversation they shared, her behavior had been pitiful. But somehow, she was sure that Yamcha wouldn’t reject her, nor would he refuse to help her. And maybe that way, would avoid having to talk to Vegeta.

Now that she had an idea of the count's thoughts, she was sure that she should conclude that project and move forward with her plans regardless of the plans he would have.

Sitting on his chair, behind his desk, Vegeta waited patiently without being able to get out of his mind the ideas that were around Bulma's behavior. What could he have done without realizing it? What had he said to have bothered her that much?

The door handle echoed in the silent office and Raditz announced himself. After years of knowing him, he knew immediately that he wasn’t in a good mood when he offered him a seat. He was surprised to see him so trapped in his own thought and assumed that it would be the reason for why he had ask him to meet.

"Take a sheet and write..." he said and his countenance didn’t change an apex. Even more strangely, he took a paper and took out a pen from the inkwell. He waited for him to continue and looked sideways through the window.

"I want you to write a request for advancement of nuptials. And you better write it well, I don't want any mistakes.”

Raditz smiled.

"Your father hit me in the neck every time I made a misteke."

“It was effective.”

"So you finally made up your mind..." Raditz said, starting to write. “I'm surprised you didn't ask Tarble for this.”

"He is somewhat indisposed at the moment."

"So what's your wife's name?"

"Not my wife, the one who is going to get married is Tarble."

Perplexed, Raditz looked at Vegeta's fierce expression and murmured a soft laugh.

"Well, I would also be indisposed in his place. I guess the Count will remain happily single.”

Vegeta didn’t release any comment, Bulma's absence was still going through his mind and he couldn't put his finger on what was the real problem.Raditz turned to the window when he saw Bulma in the distance talking with a stable boy, which caused him some curiosity. After what they had lived with Black, he had no doubt that Vegeta had certain feelings for her. And, entertained by the idea that he couldn't see the same thing he was observing now, he continued talking to him with the idea of analyzing his expression.

"I thought you would marry Bulma…" he said, watching him with special interest.His brow frowned quickly like a tiny, almost undetectable spasm, but which he saw.

"I don't plan on doing it."

"You won't marry her, but you don't want her to be approached either..."

"What is this sudden interest in Bulma?" He replied, suppressing a growing anger.Raditz laughed at his question, which only managed to generate more anxiety for the count.

"I think you have the wrong subject, Vegeta. Do you think I'm interested?”

"Then I don't understand what your comment is about."

"Do you think I'm the only man on earth who wants to propose something to her?"

"Start explaining yourself, because I’m running out of patience."

Suddenly he stood up. He left the pen inside the inkwell and the sheet on the desk. He walked calmly to the window and ran the curtain to watch the couple talking on the other side of the garden.

"What about the stable boy? Right now, he is talking to her... If I remember correctly, he was with her the night you woke up. Have you noticed?”

In fact, he had noticed. He had noticed that a long time ago, one night, they had gone out together and were talking in the garden. He had also realized that, after the disaster of that dance, he had found her in the stables, probably hidden by the same boy. And he still remembered his protective words when they entered his bedroom, the night he woke up without being able to see. It was a relationship he barely knew, but was aware of. And he had never felt intimidated by his presence. However, at that moment, unable to see, he suddenly felt anxious about what he heard. Raditz's malicious words began to influence him, just as he expected.

“Wow! What an affectionate hug…” Raditz snapped with a wicked smile, glancing sideways at the count's congested expression. “One… two… three…” he said counting the seconds that passed. “A little long for a hug, don't you think?” He knew he was lying to Vegeta, that the hug had barely lasted a second and then they had walked away and lost sight of each other. But the disturbed aspect of the count was too funny to ignore, too amusing for Raditz not to keep inciting his thoughts. "Why would they have hugged?"

"I don't care," Vegeta finally replied, but his countenance didn't say the same. His fists were clenched and it seemed that the collar of his shirt felt too narrow for his taste.He knew him, he was furious and he was controlling himself. He couldn’t imagine his helplessness in not being able to see with his own eyes what was happening. He didn’t understand the stinging that diminished inside.

"Well, I guess he can do whatever he wants if you two aren't going to get married. Anyway ... I'll take this,” he said, taking the order in his hands. “A sign?”

Raditz approached the pen carefully and placed the sheet in front of him. Vegeta was even more frustrated at not being able to see where he should sign and made a quick scribble to end  as soon as possible.

"Put a seal on it and get out of here."

Shortly after, he heard his footsteps moving away, he said goodbye announcing that he would return with an answer. But he couldn't care less, even if he tried. His mind was traveling through an uncontrolled vortex. Wandering in the most terrible thoughts. Imagining that tight hug that Raditz had described. The boldness of him to put his hands on her, especially after... After them...

In something Raditz had been very accurate. So much that he had felt it like a stab in the middle of his chest. When he finally confessed to Bulma that, even given the latest events, he had no intention of getting married, what would she do after?

Tarble had repeatedly stressed about how much living with him had damaged her reputation. And it was probably very difficult for a nobleman to think of her as a wife prospect, now that she didn't move in those circles. But what about an ordinary boy? Someone who had the same thing in his pocket as her, someone who was not influenced by these trivial standards. Would Bulma notice a simple groom? And if it wasn't him, could she eventually notice another man?

He wasn’t naive, Vegeta knew very well from the first moment he put his eyes on her that she wasn’t a beauty that goes unnoticed. And if it were to go unnoticed, her only way of expressing herself and moving made her get anyone's attention. It had succeeded in making Black obsessed, he had seen something attractive in her even before he himself. How long would it take for Bulma to find another suitor willing to do what he didn't?

Throughout the afternoon she had not showed up to see him. After having a sincere conversation with Yamcha and apologizing for his behavior in his last talk, she asked for his help riding the engine on the carriage. He, with his warm smile, agreed immediately and found himself totally amazed by what Bulma had created with her own hands. Seeing him stunned, with an incredulous face, she felt proud as she had never been before. She used to feel that way when they admired her beauty, it was something that made her smile with a sneer. When they flattered her dresses, her hairstyles, or marveled at the intense color of her celestial eyes. But that pride that used to inflate her chest was nothing compared to what Yamcha was making her feel at that moment.For the first time, Bulma was proud of something she had done. Something of her, born within her own mind.

And while he filled her with compliments and incredulous smiles, Bulma found herself raising her chin with a sufficient gesture. Yes, this incredible object they had in front of them… she had created it by herself.

Together they made the necessary modifications to adapt it to the carriage, just outside the great hall. The moment they were both standing in front of the engine, giving the last necessary touches, Bulma felt a pressing anxiety inside her. For a moment she hesitated, what if it didn't work? If all that sacrifice she had invested resulted in a great waste of time.

She gulped, watching it finish.

She felt a warm hand on her shoulder and turned to see Yamcha's comforting face. And, although he didn't tell her, he seemed to try to convey some peace of mind. She smiled. The boy’s calm got inside of her and with both hands she turned a horizontal wheel, but nothing happened. A second round, a third. A fourth, with less force...

And nothing happened.

The engine remained silent and Bulma's face became pure concern.

“Can I try?” The young man asked her and she stepped aside, wondering what she had done wrong.

When she saw the strength of the young man turning the wheel insistently, she realized that she could never turn it on herself. She didn't have the energy needed.

Explosions echoed inside the engine and her face lit up completely.

“Keep going!” She yelled excitedly and Yamcha continued turning that wheel until finally no further stimulation was necessary for the motor to continue vibrating on its own.A feeling of pure enthusiasm overwhelmed them at the same time. Bulma soon got on the carriage and with that young man, watching her carefully, she pressed the pedal she had installed and the carriage began very slowly to move on the grass.

"Incredible, Bulma!" Yamcha shouted, running after her.In that instant, she felt such genuine and overwhelming happiness that she was sure she would be able to start crying. She widened her smile and turned around, listening to Yamcha's excited voice above the sound of the engine's explosions.Bulma couldn’t contain his emotion, and in that state of rapturing joy she knew that there was only one person with whom she wanted to share that achievement.

"Thank you, Yamcha... I'll go find Vegeta to show him. I'm dying to see his reaction!”

"All right, I have to go back to work before they notice I’m not there anyways. Congratulations Bulma... This is... Wow... I have no words.”

Bulma felt within her a happiness so vibrant that she had suddenly forgotten everything that afflicted her since the previous day. And in that spirit she toured the mansion in search of him. She could barely breathe when she found him, drinking a glass of whiskey in the hall.

"Vegeta! Come with me!” She said exalted, pulling him out of his thoughts.

Dragged by her insistent grip, Vegeta walked blindly and hurriedly. He clenched his teeth with some fear of not touching any wall to guide himself. Bulma couldn't wait for him to follow her, her urgency was pressing. Thus, they arrived shortly after in the courtyard where Bulma's engine emitted a loud noise. Of course, Vegeta didn’t understand what was happening. He had spent the entire day, and part of the previous night, not knowing exacly what was Bulma doing and suddenly she was looking for him as if nothing had happened. Even so, he listened perfectly to that engine combustion vibration without knowing what it was. He hated having to ask Bulma to explain herself, as if he had to remind her that he was blind, but she conveniently interrupted his thoughts.

"It's the engine! I did it, Vegeta! It works!” She shouted excitedly.

Vegeta was totally speechless, unable to use his senses to corroborate that what she was telling him was real. Anyway, there was no reason to think it wasn't. Bulma had insisted fiercely with that project after seeing Black's. And he had given her the opportunity to create it, financing it. However, during all that time it hadn’t been for him more than a way to make her happy, and deep down… so that she remained by his side after all that had happened.

At that moment he felt somewhat upset. It was real. She had achieved it as she insisted... And although it was far from his intentions to doubt Bulma's ability, achieving something like that was far from the abilities of anyone he knew. It was impossible! It couldn't be true, had she really done it?

"You're kidding..." he whispered terribly incredulously.

“Kidding? Of course not! I did it, Vegeta. Now I will patent this engine and become rich. Rich!”

At that moment, the count realized something primordial that surprised him that Bulma had missed. A painful lump formed in his throat. At that moment he felt unable to destroy that joy. He imagined her broad smile and exaggerated gestures. He frowned, listening to her talk about what she would do now that she had finished working. She told him that she would give him part of her earnings, that he didn't have to worry about the most recent laws in the House of Lords, that both would become disgustingly rich thanks to her. And then he couldn't prolong that revelation anymore. Letting Bulma continue to daydream with a world that was not hers felt particularly painful.

"Bulma..." he said, crossing his arms and the young woman immediately noticed his grim countenance. “If you patent it... I don't think anyone will buy the rights. It’s not my intention to offend you, it is simply reality... You are a woman.”

She frowned, obfuscated at his blunt words.

“You can't know that, my invention is revolutionary! If I'm a woman or a man, it doesn't matter. I assure you it will be sold!”

“Let's say that it is sold… That I am wrong and that some company acquires the rights of your invention. What will happen to the money you earn?” Bulma was silent, seriously thinking of his words that seemed meaningless. "Bulma... maybe you can get a salary from me. It's not so much the money you earn working for me. But if we are talking about rights and royalties... the amount is substantial. And you are a woman, legally you have no right to manage that kind of money. Do you have a cousin? A brother? An uncle? Anyone who can manage your money for you?”

Hearing that questioning, she realized a reality so impossible to circumvent that she was speechless. She couldn’t acquire goods by herself, nor receive large sums of money since she wasn’t legally able to manage them. She felt her dreams fall in front of her eyes, shattered by the reality she had barely taken into account until that moment. Vegeta, although cruel in his words, was sincere. Perhaps, she had chosen to forget all the restrictions that were inherently linked to being a woman since that didn’t bring her any joy. And at that moment all the joy that she brought to finally having achieved her greatest goal, was undone to leave her nothing but severe anguish.

"I have no one..." she replied and Vegeta felt his stomach turn over when he heard her broken tone.

"Maybe there is something we can do about it..."

"No..." she said, approaching the carriage to turn off the engine. “You're right, I can't receive so much money and if I do, I probably have to sell the engine and forget about royalties. A man would patent it as his and my invention would cease to be mine...”

While Bulma spoke in that sorry tone, an idea came to Vegeta's mind and although he knew he couldn't accept it, it seemed the easiest way out. If he married Bulma, he could manage her assets without any problem. But no, no… He couldn’t marry her on the brink of legal inconvenience. He couldn’t marry her if he himself didn’t wish to marry. He couldn’t marry her while in such a vulnerable state, feeling so useless and miserable.

The atmosphere became dire. Bulma wiped her tears, frustrated, tired and depressed. Why did everything have to go so wrong?Vegeta undid the crossing of his arms upon hearing the first sob leaving Bulma's lips. He didn't know what to do or how to act. She was overwhelmed with feelings and anguish.His fingertips began to itch feeling an irremediable desire to hug her and contain her regret. He felt her anguish turn inside him and couldn’t bear the soft, timid sound of her crying. He walked to her knowing very well that he couldn’t see her and extended a hand trying to make a gesture that he himself didn’t understand. And before he could do anything, he felt Bulma's fragile and warm body wrap around his torso. She had hugged him without hesitation and when he felt her on his torso it felt natural to wrap her and caress her back. He rested his chin on Bulma's hair and waited patiently for her to vent without knowing exactly why he was so terribly distraught. Hadn't she really thought about it before? Was she so blinded with that dream that she forgot the world they lived in almost completely?

And just as she had thought of him to share a moment that for her was the most proud, seeing him raising a hand blindly to reach her was enough to dump all her misery in his arms. For Bulma, this wasn’t just an obstacle in a perfect plan she had made for his life. This was the irrefutable confirmation that she couldn’t obtain her long-awaited freedom. The freedom to be and decide for herself what she really wanted. Permanently relegated to other people's conventions and, even having broken so many concepts in that time in which she had used herself, it wasn’t enough. And maybe it never would be.

Vegeta hugged her without saying a word and without asking for explanations. He really didn't need them. Bulma was simply exhausted and he understood it. And seeing her so devastated did nothing but increase that terrible guilt he kept inside for having fallen at her feet. Having snatched her virginity even knowing that he did not want to marry. Vegeta felt the most miserable being on earth.

"You should go to sleep..." he said, reminding her that she had spent the night awake.

She wiped her face and still wrapped in his warm hug, watched him. After everything she had thought, after the great conclusions she had reached... Even after deducing that the count had no intention of making her his wife, she couldn’t help feeling an irremediable attraction to him. Even with great sadness like a knot on her neck, her heart pounded and rumbled beneath her chest. There was no doubt that she loved him.

And with her crumbling plans, with her spirit bent, with the certainty that she wouldn’t marry or be economically independent...

She broke free as she left Vegeta's grip and left without saying anything.

The count remained there alone. The way she had vanished from his arms without saying anything, wrapped in a sharp silence, had left him uncomfortable. Not knowing what to do with himself, he remained petrified listening to Bulma's footsteps move away to an uncertain place. Something in his throat hurt, and he didn't know what it was. He wouldn’t know how to describe that feeling that invaded him as a calamity. Something painful, something disturbing.

Was he afraid? Did he fear that Bulma would leave him?

Bulma ran across the gardens. She searched almost desperately in her pockets and with trembling hands took a box of matches. She placed a cigarette between her lips and lit it. She breathed that murky air closing her eyes, trying to have that relaxing sensation made of every inch of her body. What to do when all roads reach their end?

Bulma released the air trapped in her lungs, watching the sun hiding across the horizon with an orange mantle. For the first time she felt she had no place to go. Even if she had a room for her, even if she was welcome in that mansion. Simply, the world was not made for a being like her. For a woman so irreverent, so superior to so many men. So much that it would only provoke rejection in that part of the world in which she felt so comfortable. So her. Was there no place there for a woman who could invent something for herself?

She had read about exceptional women in history and always knew that her excellence had a price. What would be hers? Relegate her name to the darkness of such a great invention?While thinking in complete silence of what she should do from now on, her gaze met Yamcha's again. He closed the stables and carried a bucket in his hands. He had probably fed the horses.He didn’t fail to perceive that something was wrong. Her face wasn’t the same happy one he had said goodbye to recently and left the bucket on the floor to run to her.

The count wandered slowly through the mansion with a bitter taste between his lips. Unsure not only of every step he took but also of what would be going through Bulma's mind. The idea of confessing that he wasn’t planning to marry was devastating at the time and he was sure that he wouldn’t be able to utter such terrible words. He stroked the walls and walked trying to know where he was. He felt lost. Bulma had run him and at some point along the way he lost his sense of direction. He wasn’t only distressed, but also extremely frustrated. And it wasn't until he heard Bulma's voice again that felt paralyzed.She was chatting with someone, sitting on the other side of the window.

_"That's why I can't receive that amount of money... Legally, a man from my family, a guardian... must manage that money for me. Isn’t it stupid? I am perfectly capable of creating an internal combustion engine by myself but I’m not capable to manage my own money...”_

_"Easy... I know you'll find a solution. You are the smartest woman I met in my life. You are extraordinary, Bulma...”_

He recognized the masculine tone of the stable boy and froze.

_“It’s not enough.”_

_"Well... There is another solution to your problem."_

Vegeta's heart seemed to stop completely. There was nothing but the sound of their voices and hearing those words, he feared he had reached the same conclusion as him.

_“Which is?”_

_"What if you get married?"_

Without giving credit to his ears, he felt all his muscles contract and waited for Bulma's response.

 _"Who would I marry?"_ Bulma snapped with a hint of bitterness.

 _"Bulma..."_ he said, taking her hands in his. _“I can marry you.”_

Vegeta felt an accurate blow to the chest. The room was spinning and although he wanted to make himself present, he forced himself to remain there, inert, invisible to their eyes.

_“What?”_

_"It doesn't have to be a real marriage... If you need my help, I can marry you. So you can have your money as you want. You don't have to give me anything in return... I just don't want to see you like this.”_

His selfless offer was nothing but a terrible trap in Vegeta's ears. That little fool was taking advantage of Bulma's moment of vulnerability and if he could see him, he woud break his face. How dare he?! Who did he think he was? That idiot didn't match the size of the man Bulma deserved!

 _"Thank you Yamcha..."_ she replied gently. _“I promise you I’ll think about it..._ ”

Vegeta felt a final and accurate dagger pierce his chest and left there unable to hear another word of that conversation. He felt lost, disoriented, upset, indignant. There were so many and so terrible feelings, fighting each other in the middle of his chest that he didn't know exactly how he felt. He was overwhelmed, his heart was pounding. He was overwhelmed by a terrible reality that had overlooked. If he didn’t marry Bulma, another would come to take his place. And with that idea flooding his mind, he left there trying to find some familiar place in all that darkness.

He was extremely agitated when he heard a door close and one of his employees receiving someone. At least now he had an idea of where he was standing. Raditz's family laugh was a slight relief to him and he walked over to him, dragging his fingers over the wall.

"Vegeta?" He said in a strange tone. He looked at him raising an eyebrow, walking towards him with worrying haste.

"We're leaving," he said. “Prepare a carriage immediately, I need to get out of this mansion.”

Raditz looked at the girl who had received him and, abandoning his coquetry, made a gesture to do what Vegeta had asked. Seeing him somewhat disoriented, he approached and tried to take him by the arm, but he immediately shook from his grip.

"Don't even think about it."

"All right..." he said, walking away and seeing his painful journey to the door. “Where are we going?”

"Anywhere..." he replied. Raditz was confused, from the moment Vegeta had gone blind, he had decided not to receive anyone in his mansion again... Except for the Marquis who had promised his daughter to Tarble. “You know the whole damn city, take me to a private place... To a place where nobody knows who I am.”

One of his coachmen appeared running, the news that the count would leave and that he wasn’t in a good mood had already hovered around the mansion. The carriage was ready to leave in a few minutes and Raditz approached the coachman to indicate where they were going. The surprised face of that man was swift. Raditz didn't understand what was happening either.

Vegeta climbed into the carriage and barely even if he began to regret it, he didn’t retract or step back to return to the safety of his mansion. Although he couldn't see his surroundings, he was tired of knowing himself in the same place for so long. As if the prison of hardships in which he lived permanently was confined to another bigger prison.

Raditz turned to him, intrigued by what would be going through his mind to justify that erratic behavior. The road became quite long and Vegeta didn’t say a word.

"I guess it wasn't the best time for me to come…" he said, trying to make some conversation and break that awkward silence that invaded the carriage, but Vegeta said nothing. He seemed lost in a deep sea of thoughts, so turbulent that he barely managed to get afloat.

When the carriage stopped in front of a modest canteen on the outskirts of the city, the count began to feel the anticipation of what he would find there. Would they realize who he was? And above all, would they notice that he was completely blind?

Raditz went down first and inspected the surroundings. There were only about four men there. Poor alcoholic bastards of those who are lost since noon. Nothing to worry about.

When Vegeta entered he didn’t hear surprised voices. He had taken off his jacket before going down, put his cufflinks in his pocket and disposed of his white gloves with the idea of going unnoticed. He unbuttoned the first buttons and sat at a table very close to the door through which he had entered. He didn't hear his name on anyone's lips, the few people who gathered there laughed without noticing his presence too much, which managed to lessen his anxiety.

Raditz soon put a glass of beer in front of him and Vegeta didn’t take long to take it in his hands to drink that warm amber liquid.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

“No,” he sighed, it had never crossed his mind that night would end that way. With them two together in total silence, drinking beer of poor quality, in a forsaken canteen.

He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and drank half of his beer. He examined Vegeta's face and couldn't help thinking about how boring the rest of the night would be if he didn't talk at all.

“I’m begin to think that this job is under paid.”

"Well, congratulations, you have a raise."

"I didn't think it would be so easy."

"Whatever to keep your mouth shut."

"Can't we even talk about work? That’s what I going to when I returned to the mansion.”

Vegeta raised an eyebrow, although what he most wanted at that moment was to be at peace, he couldn’t leave the matter of Tarble's marriage halfway trough.

"If I don't have any more options, what did they tell you?"

"Well, to begging they accepted the request. They told me to put a date on it and that, if it’s very urgent, this week they could perform the ceremony. The same date will be the ceremony.”

“Perfect. You will take care of that, now that you have a raise... You will be in charge of presenting everything necessary for the ceremony to take place this week. Then I will go with the Marquis, I understand that he wants to take care of the celebration. Put the mansion at his disposal from me. I want to end this as soon as possible.”

"I think they've never invited me to a wedding," he said, smiling before drinking his beer.

"Now you want to go to the wedding too?"

“May l? I imagine it will be fun.”

"Only if you find something decent to wear."

"Do you have a guest lists to send to the Marquis?"

"I wouldn't even go if it was up to me. Just make sure Nappa is not on the guest list, forget about his wife and children... We still don't know if he has anything to do with this.”

With the passing of each mug, Vegeta seemed to be slightly forgetting what had brought him to that place. The canteen, little by little, was filled with ordinary people. Raditz let him believe that they were drinking to the same extent, but each time he brought him a full mug he continued to drink the same one that was served when he arrived. Somehow, he was afraid that someone would dare to look for problems and that, blind or not, Vegeta was more than willing to participate in a fight than he would want to.

When the count's frown finally began to relax and his dark face began to acquire a slight blush, he knew that all that cheap alcohol was yielding the desired effect. That kind of anesthesia that Vegeta was desperately looking for.

“What happened?” He asked suddenly, pulling him out of his reverie.

"Where to start?" He replied in a slightly congested tone. “As far as you and I know? No... it's better not to talk about it... The fact that I'm blind? And that it was probably my cousin who tried to kill me? What if it was the other one? It would be more difficult to explain his motivations to want me dead, but it is a possibility.”

Vegeta's verbiage managed to alert him. He looked to the sides with the intention of detecting some curious ear, but fortunately everyone seemed to have forgotten about their presence. However, it was still worrying. The count drank with no intention of stopping and at that time he feared that his desire to make him speak could get them into trouble.

"I’m begin to regret asking you." The count finally smiled and muttered a laugh. “Are you sure it's the only thing that worries you?”

He frowned, his smile was completely erased and he looked naked at Raditz's scrutiny. There was something else... Then he remembered his short interaction that morning and ended up smiling at the realization of what was happening.

"Problems with Bulma?" He said cautiously and saw him turning his face with sufficiency.

“What happened? Did the stable boy finally show his true intentions?”

Vegeta made a face, a mocking laugh that contained some frustration.

"A stable boy..." he said condescendingly.

"Did you interrogate him? That is, about what happened in the equestrian competition. After all, he is the one in charge of having Storm ready.”

Vegeta remained thoughtful and suddenly joined points in his mind and was surprised at his discovery.

"Do you think he would want to get rid of me to marry her?"He spoke as if Raditz knew what had happened before seeing each other again. Probably alcohol induced."I don't follow you, Vegeta."

“He proposed to her. In the gardens of the mansion, can you believe the audacity?”

"How dare he…" He laughed. “So that’s the problem. You neglected her and before you knew it, there was another one waiting for his chance.”

“Shut up.”Raditz laughed harder again.

"Well, if we're being serious... Wouldn't it be a bit of an exaggeration on his part to try to kill you just to marry that girl? What's so special about her?”

Oh, but he didn't know how special she really was. And if he knew maybe he would be on the same path as that boy, trying by whatever means were necessary to reach her.

"It would be somewhat exaggerated..." he replied, but immediately remembered all the tricks Black had used to wrap her up without success. Could that boy be as twisted as he was? “But it’s possible... I don’t understand how he overlooked the reins.”

"You should have fired him."

“You're right. Tomorrow I'll take care of that...”

  
The silence between them became present again. Vegeta drank carelessly from his mug and Raditz pretended to do the same. Now that he knew what the reason for that attitude was, he knew where to aim. And maybe he wouldn't have had so much fun with him at another time. Probably being blind made him vulnerable to being his target. There was nothing Vegeta could do to him without ending up abandoned in the middle of nowhere.

"What did she answer?" He questioned as intrigued as amused.

"That she would think about it."

To his surprise Vegeta had given him an honest response without stirring too much, without bothering excessively, without insulting him.

"Think about it?" He let out with some surprise. “Do you really think she’s going to marry him?”

“Bulma has a legal issue… It's a bit long to explain, the point is that she needs a husband to manage her finances.”

"I don't understand what pennies she need to administer."

"If everything goes as she thinks, it might not be pennies. It could be thousands.”

"And here I am, drinking this piss," Vegeta's mug hit the table. “It's a joke! Wow, what a temper.”

"Don't even joke about it."

"She would be an idiot if she chooses a stable boy over a count. I don't believe she's as dumb as Briggitte.”

"She's not an idiot. But she has a greater need than Briggitte for having a husband. Also, don't forget that whoever marries her would be Duke.”

"Why don't you kill two birds with one stone and marry her if it bothers you so much?"

"Do you think I haven't thought about it?"

“What's stopping you?”

"I'm blind, damn fool. Do I have to spell it for you?”"I think you're behaving like a spoiled brat," Vegeta's face turned to outrage.

“Do you think you are the first blind man in the history of the world? You are rich, you are a damn noble. Stop feeling sorry for yourself, you're not behaving like the Vegeta I know.”

"Just to come here, I needed your help. Do you think I love the idea of living like this?"

"Do you think I love the idea of being poor? We all have problems, Vegeta. You are only a disabled person if you think you are. That is your problem.”

"I will not walk through life with a cane."

"I've known men who have lost limbs in war, and you know what? The damn life goes on.”

"Even so, I'm not going to have a wife to take care of me at every step. What kind of life is that?”

"Then I suppose that if the situation were reversed, you wouldn't marry her. Who would want a blind wife?”

"It's not the same, I'm a man. I have other types of responsibilities.”

"Then you would, if she were in your situation, you would marry her." Frustrated by the certainty of his words, the count kept silent repentance of all that conversation. "I think all this is nothing more than an excuse for not admitting that you want her to be your wife."

"Damn it, Raditz!" He exclaimed hitting the table again. “What the fuck do you want me to say? If I ask her to marry me, she will have a lifetime with someone who doesn’t even know where the fucking toilet is. If I don't marry her, she will have to accept that little moron's proposal. And if it's not him, another maybe as convincing as you will. Anyway, I don't like any option.”

"At least they you on good terms?"

"Define good terms."

"I imagined it... If she has to consider that little fool’s proposal, it is because the things between you two aren’t going too well."

To tell the truth, even he didn't know how things were going. Her behavior had been so contradictory that he didn't know where he stood in his relationship with her. And that doubt made him feel as if he were on thin ice that seemed about to break. In fact, his uncertainty had become so great that he felt a sharp pain in the pit of his stomach, similar to nausea. It seemed that he was about to puke and he was sure it wasn’t for the beer.

His complex face began to cause some pain to Raditz, he had never seen him so upset. Even after he had been involved in a crime, he had not been so uncomfortable. Somehow, he felt that Vegeta needed to be pushed hard to take on his feelings. To take action on the matter. And although they weren’t the best of friends, Raditz felt some camaraderie with him after so many years of service. They had done terrible things together and, although his silence was well paid, it transcended beyond their long paychecks.

"How about doing the same thing as Briggitte's late husband?"

“What thing?”

"Buy a one-way ticket for the groom, give him money and send him far from here. At least that way you will erase one of the options.”

"No... I'm not going to manipulate her options that way... She's always been free to leave; I'm not going to take that away from her. If Bulma marries, she is smart enough to choose for herself with whom…”

He drank again from his mug and, in a defeated tone, asked Raditz for another. The other sighed with the certainty that they would spend there all night. With the idea that Vegeta was hiding in broad light of what bothered him most. Of that he could not admit out loud. For him, who had been at his side for years, there was no doubt about what he felt and he could barely assimilate it. Like a scared child, like a caged animal. Vegeta didn't know what he felt, even if it was obvious in his eyes. For a moment it seemed funny and he cocked a smile, on the other he found it particularly sad and his lips tightened. So he decided that, early in the morning, if they weren’t still in that same bar, he would do Vegeta a small favor that maybe could take him along the path he thought was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me for the delay. In Argentina we have a winter break and I caught a cold, I have been in bed and taking medication but I have already recovered and I really want to continue translating this story. Early tomorrow I'll answer your comments, thank you very much to those who stay a few more minutes to leave me some words! It's much appreciated! See you in the next chapter, take care!


	26. Chapter XXVI

** IN YOUR HANDS **

Chapter

-XXVI-

“This is serious. I don't want you to think you owe me something... Think about it. If you think it’s a solution to your problem, I will be willing to help you.

She couldn’t be naive and say that Yamcha saw her as just a friend. Perhaps, she would have thought about it at first, blind because of his feelings towards Vegeta. But now, after he had proposed that she marry him, Bulma seriously thought if that proposal wouldn’t come with ulterior intentions. Nathalie had told her and she had already thought about it a couple of times before. Besides, he didn't know about the nature of her relationship with Vegeta. Wow, even she didn't know what label to put on what was happening between them. And although she didn't want to doubt, she had a hunch that it wasn't all said, that there was a part that was dying to get out of Yamcha's lips, but he had kept it.

On another occasion, it wouldn’t have taken her long to reject his proposal. But at that moment she was so overwhelmed and vulnerable that she’d really considered taking it into account. After all, despite knowing that she was hopelessly in love with Vegeta, if he didn’t propose she would be forced to follow her own course. She would have to try to forget him if he wasn’t willing to take the next logical step in their relationship. She wasn’t going to stay to be relegated to a mistress, as she had been told. Now that economic independence wasn’t possible for her, she began to think seriously about the option she hated the most. Sell her prototype, accept whatever she get paid for it, and let some man put his name to that invention and get rich as she dreamed. Perhaps she could get enough to leave the country, to one where there were no such legal impediments and, again, start from scratch. It was a detestable idea, but what more options did she have? Bulma already felt that she had exhausted all roads.

She wandered around the mansion fearing the most fateful of the endings for that horrible night, shivering inside just thinking what Vegeta could tell her, if he dared to talk to her about marriage. But when she got to her room she found no trace of the count, and although one part of her felt extremely relieved, the other one wanted to end it as soon as possible.

She dressed her bedding and wrapped herself under the covers without being able to close her eyes. There were so many things in her mind that she couldn’t sleep and at the same time, the expectation generated by Vegeta's imminent arrival kept her with her eyes wide open.

It started to feel strange when the hours passed and he never arrived. It was already dawn when she began to worry and got up to make sure he wasn't sleeping in another bedroom. Upset at the same time, knowing that he was doing his best to escape her, perhaps not to give her a concrete answer.

It was after six o'clock in the morning when she heard the door open and peeked out,   to see Raditz carrying Vegeta to his bedroom. It seemed that he could barely walk and argued with him about how much it bothered him that he was helping him, insisting that he could get by himself when the opposite was evident. His barely coherent tone was the clear proof that he was drunk.

Bulma restrained herself from intervening and watched Raditz and Vegeta's painful journey to the Count's bedroom, hidden behind the door.

Raditz left him sitting on the bed. Vegeta felt the room spinning, he was exhausted, and perhaps deep down that was what he was looking for, an accurate way to fall asleep without having to think about anyone or anything.

After seeing the tallest leaving the room, Bulma closed her door carefully to not make any noise. It was the first time she saw Vegeta in that state. The idea that he had gone out with Raditz to drink was confusing, with how reluctant he was to let himself be seen in public, it didn't seem reasonable, it didn't seem him.

At least now she knew where he was and imagined where he had spent the night, so, a little quieter and having taken off the weight of the conversation that awaited them, she lay down to sleep.

In the morning she prepared quite insecure. She had breakfast with Tarble, who barely released a word and had the same pitiful face he had two nights ago. By that time neither of them knew that Tarble's future wife was on her way, and that the nuptials had been advanced thanks to Vegeta and Raditz.

At that very moment a quite sleepy Raditz made the arrangements that Vegeta had requested and, in addition, a small favor that was sure would help the count to go in the right direction.

The door rang when Bulma finished her cup of tea and looked at Tarble when the employees went out to attend to door.

“Are you waiting for someone?”

“No one.”

She stood up, fearing it was Vegeta's detestable cousin insisting on his assignment, but was surprised to find a lady covered in a dark veil. Next to her was another woman, a mature lady with a tired took on her face.

The employee who had received them had an expression of surprise, turned to Bulma, smiling somewhat nervously, and addressed her.

"Mr. Tarble's fiancee," she said, presenting her and Bulma could hear the aforementioned coughing in the dining room, probably drowned in his glass of water.

Vegeta was sleeping and would probably stink of alcohol and she couldn't believe he wasn't able to arrange a reception for his brother's fiancee. Shocked, she approached her and before she could greet her, the young woman who had just arrived apologized.

"Excuse my imprudence, please, I was supposed to come in a couple of days, but I couldn't contain the excitement of meeting my husband and asked my father to let me come before the wedding. My mother insisted on preparing a dinner for our families to meet, but I couldn't control my anxiety. Please forgive me, miss.”

“No, please. I apologize on behalf of the count for not being here to receive you. He is indisposed at this moment... But don't worry, if you give me a few minutes we will place you in you rooms and welcome our guests properly.”

"Thank you... My name is Gure and she is my escort, Mary Ann."

"Nice to meet you, Gure, my name is Bulma. Please, take a seat and feel at home. I imagine your trip has been long and you’re tired. I'll take care of getting your bags down in an instant.” Bulma turned to the young woman who had received them. “Please, serve our guests something to drink.”

She tried to hide how uncomfortable she felt from such a short reception and left simulating calm down to the dining room. Tarble seemed barely recovering from the news that his future wife was a few meters away from him.

"You will have to go out to receive them. I can't do it for you, at some point they’ll ask me who I am and you know I have nothing to tell them,” she whispered shocked.

"Damn, I thought I had a few more days to get used to the idea...”

"Well, you don't have them and we can't leave them waiting there for too long. You have to introduce yourself. I’ll wake up Vegeta...”

He tried to find excuses, but nothing that was in his mind sounded convincing enough to justify his absence. His future wife was waiting for him a few meters away and he had to face her, although he detested the idea of marrying a stranger. Finally, he decided to put on a jacket and get ready, to look more presentable. He returned to his room with haste and looked in the mirror, adjusted his hair and put on his best shirt. He verified that his shoes were polished and then saw his reflection again. It wasn’t the appearance of a happily engaged man and it showed. He forced a smile, but failed to sketch the gesture he intended. His twisted smile was awkward.

With nothing else to do, he sighed with an air of defeat and left his room to go to receive his fiancee. His heart beat him hard in the chest as the space between them narrowed. When he finally saw her, under that huge veil, all he could see were her fine embroidered gloves and the stern-looking woman who accompanied her.

"Sorry for the delay," Tarble said, and both women turned to see him. Restless about the appearance of his wife, he approached them and when he saw them stand up he asked them not to do so, that it wasn’t necessary. He tried to sound friendly and invited them to feel at home. Tarble sat on the other side of the small table where their tea cups lay.

The girl's hands shuddered and clung to each other over her legs. She seemed more nervous than he was and that tiny gesture caused him a bit of empathy. At least they had something in common.

The woman who accompanied her looked at her at the corner of her eyes and then at him. Her penetrating gaze seemed to be able to see the little desire he had to marry, or that was what Tarble felt when he was scattered with a frown.

"Where’s the Count? He was supposed to receive us.”

"He is busy at the moment," he lied instinctively. “You will have to excuse him, we didn’t expect you today.”

 “It's okay!” The girl hurriedly said. “You do not have to apologize, my lord, rather I am the one who should ask them. I dared to leave early, my father didn't have time to let you know...”

"There is no need to worry about that, there’s nothing to apologize for."

Tarble could barely see the young woman's face under her dark veil and it was disturbing. He wondered what kind of condition she was suffering to hide in that way. Gure, sitting in front of him, couldn’t ignore his awkward expression and quickly realized that she should have removed her veil.

“Oh! Excuse me! How impolite of me, forgive my manners, my Lord… ”

She raised her gloved hands and her escort seemed to panic when she noticed her intentions. Suddenly she stopped her and they watched each other for a moment.

"Miss, wait..."

That dour woman stood up and walked to the window to close the curtains. Even with the curtains closed Tarble could see them perfectly thanks to the light that filtered through the fabric. The room was dyed amber and being deprived of the sun's rays, he saw her nod to her companion and finally revealed her face.Under her veil he found a petite young woman, perhaps the thinnest he had ever seen. Her skin looked like a veil of snow, as white as porcelain and maybe more. Her thin lips were the color of cherries, her eyes dark and big, surrounded by long white eyelashes. Her hair of an ethereal blond, long and wavy.

Seeing her future husband in the eyes for the first time, she blushed. Her pale cheeks turned pink in an instant. She was a pretty girl, but Tarble felt uncomfortable seeing her so young and looking so innocent.

"Miss suffers from a condition that doesn’t allow her to receive sunlight directly. You have to take many precautions regarding her health.”

Tarble nodded at her words. No doubt he would have liked Vegeta to have mentioned it to him when he told him he was going to get married, although he himself hadn’t given him a chance to do so. He simply nodded and saw the young woman's appearance again, worried about what would await them from now on.

"To tell you the truth, this is the first time I leave home. I'm very excited… if you haven't noticed,” she said in a soft and shy tone.

Tarble listened attentively and a sudden feeling of guilt flooded him for having been so worried about himself all that time. He had never stopped to think that, on the other side of that arrangement, there was a young woman who was barely knowing her husband.

"Excuse me, Lord Tarble. The rooms for the lady and her companion are ready.”

“Thank you. Please take her bags,” he looked at the stern-looking woman and thought about taking a certain daring, given the circumstances. “I fear sounding impertinent, but could you give me a few minutes alone to talk with my future wife?”

"It is inadmissible. She can’t...”

“Please!” the girl said. “You don't have to worry, after all... he will be my husband. We are engaged, it’s reasonable that Mr. Tarble would like to spend a few moments to get to know each other better.”

Gure almost hid her face, her burning cheeks were adorable and almost as much as the emotion she seemed to feel for being in Tarble’s presence. The woman hesitated and stood by the window for a moment. Then she reluctantly agreed and left with the employee in search of their bags. Once alone, Tarble didn't know how to start that conversation.

"I..." he began doubtfully. “I would understand if you weren’t very comfortable with this union...”

“N-no!” she snapped quickly. “No... On the contrary, I... I am very happy that you agreed to marry me. I have been rejected many times because of my condition, I know that my health is very fragile and that I’m very young... But I am extremely grateful that you have accepted. I’m very happy to have come here. I've always wanted to leave home, but my parents didn't think it was the best for me.”

He cocked a sincere smile after hearing her words. She seemed terribly nervous and at the same time excited. She sounded sincere and he felt some sorrow knowing that she was amazed at the mere fact that she had left her own home.

"You’d never left before?"

"No... But my father's mansion has many windows and I have occasionally slipped away to see my sisters play in the gardens. Well... now they are all married, so the mansion has become very boring and lonely.”

"Would it be very daring of me to adress you by your name from now on?" He saw her deny with a shy smile on her face. “How old are you?”

"Fourteen, my Lord."

"You don't need to call me that, you can call me Tarble. Don't you think you're a little young to get married?”

"My mother married my father when she was fourteen too, they had their first daughter a year later..."

“I see…” Gure smiled broadly, she was so genuine, so innocent, that Tarble could not avoid the blush that stained his cheeks. "Would you like me to show you the rest of the mansion?" He said trying to sketch a more natural smile and Gure quickly stood up enthusiastically.

Her ecstatic face was tenderness personified and Tarble's gesture became more serene. It hadn't been so terrible after all. He offered his arm and she clung to him without hesitation. Tarble, tender with his wide childish smile, knew that he could not reject that marriage arrangement as he wanted.

While the couple walked through the corridors of the mansion, Bulma climbed to the first floor with the intention of waking the count. But she was surprised to open the door of his room to find him sitting, stroking his forehead tightly.

"So… his excellence was awake," she said in a mocking tone.

Vegeta frowned with a gesture of pain. Bulma's words sounded like a bell pounding inside his head.

"You don't need to shout..."

“Bad night?” she asked, crossing her arms in front of him. “Well, that doesn't matter anymore. You have something more important to deal with right now.”

"I don't want to have this conversation now."

Bulma raised an eyebrow.

“What you want has me without care. Tarble's fiancee has just arrived, so you better put on clean clothes and go out to welcome her.”

“What?! They weren't supposed to arrive today.”

"When were they supposed to?"

“The wedding was advanced, the church already accepted the request. It will be held this week.”

"Did you even have the courtesy to tell Tarble?"

"I knew it last night, and why would I have to give those explanations to you?"

"Of course, since you haven't even had that courtesy with me, why would you have it with your own brother?"

"I refuse to have this conversation," he said, feeling his head about to explode.

Vegeta stood up and walked to his wardrobe. He felt the surface of the door with his hands and opened it. He took a shirt and began to shed the one he was wearing without an apex of shame for his naked torso.

"At least brush your teeth, you stink of alcohol."

The count put on his clean shirt, ignoring Bulma's words. But when he was about to button his shirt, he heard her footsteps approaching him and his insubordinate heart immediately accelerated. Vegeta felt her fingers on his torso, taking the buttons in her hands. A familiar electricity ran through him in every brush over his skin, natural and uncontrollable.

“You're impossible. I can't believe you could do this to Tarble, besides you forcing him to marry, you don't even have the slightest appreciation for him to inform him that you had advanced the nuptials. The poor bastard has been drinking nonstop since he knew of his engagement.”

And even if Vegeta wanted to listen to her words, it would be impossible. His heart pounded on his chest hard, echoing over his throat. The throbbing rumbled over his ears and when he breathed he felt the scent of her skin impregnated with soap. The effect she had on him without being aware of it was devastating and made him realize how much he missed the tingling sensation of his hands on her body.

The memory of what they had done the previous morning came to his mind without permission and the sensations returned to his memory. The way he had rubbed her body, the way his hands had been lost in her most intimate places. He gulped with craftiness trying to control his breathing. Trying to deny in vain the sea of sensations in which he was getting lost.

A sudden heat rushed over his chest and stained his cheeks. But Bulma was so focused on giving him a reprimand that she didn't notice. She finished buttoning his shirt and crossed her arms again, outraged at everything Vegeta had done during the last few days. Then she looked up and found his absent eyes. She sighed and turned her gaze on the bed. His glasses were lying beside the pillow and without hesitation she walked towards them and took them in her hands.

Hearing her soft steps away, he felt as if a current dragged him to her, the feeling that he was losing control over his own hands that were looking for her. She retraced her steps and to the surprise of the count, adjusted the glasses on his face and smiled. "Much better," she whispered and before she could get away from him he gently caught her wrists.

Vegeta felt Bulma's pulse under his thumb, speeding up with every second that passed and that seemed endless. She had to feel like him, there was no way she could lie to him.

He heard a surprised sigh leave her lips and before she could say anything, he planted a soft kiss on her lips. He wanted her so much that his mind seemed to shut down completely, crying out to forget the bitter thoughts that had tortured him the night before with the caress of her lips.

She closed her eyes and got caught in that kiss that she had unwittingly wanted so much. Finally, he smiled over her mouth when he felt her reciprocate. Her flushed lips caressed his and she tenderly kissed him. He breathed on her skin, feeling his nose caress hers. She shuddered when one of his hands said goodbye to her wrist to take her by the waist and his tongue pushed her lightly, purring over her mouth.

Bulma wrapped his face with her hands and before she realized she was leaning against the wardrobe. Savoring him, biting his lips. She had avoided it as much as she wanted it.

Vegeta could only feel the intense throbbing of his own body and at that moment all the worry that he carried with him last night vanished. She wanted him as much as he did. He wanted to whisper that she was his, to discard those inferior marriage proposals and get lost in the sheets of his bed, but he didn't have the courage to utter such terrible words, even in an elusive whisper. And although she kissed him as if he were what she most wanted in life, she knew that she couldn’t be completely his again until he said what she expected.

All the security that invaded him when he kissed her disappeared when he felt her hand push him through his chest, pulling his mouths away from that long-awaited contact.

"No, I... I can't now..." She stammered restlessly and left hurriedly.

Bulma had left him alone. Only with the tickle of her lips still itching on his skin.

The count swallowed hard, uncomfortable and restless about what had just happened and as he listened to her steps quickly move away and close the door behind her, he wondered what he was doing and why.

"What the hell is wrong with me?..." he asked himself, leaning his forehead against the wardrobe, defeated. Why couldn't he say it?

Bulma's chest burned and inside she died of desire to return to the count's room and continue that ominous act, but Nathalie's words echoed in her mind. She couldn't give in to him so easily, even if it required the full force of her body to break the spell that haunted her every time he touched her.And as she walked away as soon as possible from him, she struggled to control the stormy beat of her heart and the desire to retrace her steps and continue that encounter. But she couldn't afford to let him know that he had such control over her. Even if it was real and her heart ached from having abandoned him.He instead felt deeply upset at that unacceptable attraction that seemed to completely dominate him. His body had approached her as inertia, without even thinking about it for a second. What was happening to him? Why did she make him feel so weak? So unable to resist her. He hated that longing so deep he felt for having her again, for feeling the soft touch of her fingers drawing on his back.Frustrated, he listened to her words and left as he could to the bathroom to clean himself. He went downstairs and sat in the hall. An employee soon approached him to ask if he she could offer him anything and knew that Tarble and his fiancée roamed through mansion. The best thing for him would be to stay right there and wait for the moment they’ll return to introduce himself. Annoyed by the irremediable reality that this girl would soon realize his blindness if she remained in the mansion for a long time. But this time he didn’t care that much, she herself dealt with terrible health problems and perhaps his blindness fell short compared the condition she suffered.

Eventually he heard their voices approaching, Tarble laughed naturally and after hearing that sound he felt somewhat perplexed. He had rarely heard his laughter, outside of social events where he displayed his ability to socialize, something that Vegeta frankly lacked off. He was surprised, above all, by the reluctance he had had with that marriage. Perhaps it would be thanks to his excellent ability to blend in society, he had always been a little scammer.

Gure's sweet voice echoed in the hallway and when they approached the hall, Tarble went silent. His gesture hardened when he saw him sitting, waiting for his arrival. "Vegeta," he said, revealing that they had arrived. “Let me introduce you to Gure, my fiancee...”

The count stood up and adjusted his jacket, cleared his throat, but didn’t change his severe gesture.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be present when you arrived. I hope you find your rooms comfortable. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask the staff. They are at your disposal... Tonight I will see they prepare something you like for dinner.”

He had meticulously rehearsed his words as it was the first time that his mansion received a guest of that magnitude. Vegeta had seen his father receive guests and a lag of that memory still roamed his mind.

"They have been more than hospitable, count. Your mansion is beautiful, my Lord,” said Gure.

"Thank you, do not hesitate to use it and ask for what you need at any time. We will see that all your needs are met.”

"You are very courteous, as is my lord, Tarble... Now, I will apologize again. It hasn’t been a very long trip, but it is my first trip and I am somewhat tired, I will retire to my room if it doesn’t bother you.”

"Please, I hope your room is to your liking."

Relieved and believing that his blindness had gone unnoticed, he waited patiently for Gure's steps to move away from him and when he could no longer hear the echo of her heels in the hall; he took a seat. He was surprised to hear how a third, probably Tarble, approached him and sat a few meters away.

"I submitted the request to advance the nuptials to the church, they have already accepted. The wedding will be celebrated this week,” he informed him, remembering Bulma's words.

"I'm sorry to inform you that Gure already let me know. It's a bit unusual for the groom not to know his wedding day, don't you think?”

"You couldn’t expect you to be engaged for a year, did you?"

"At least I was expecting my wife to be of age."

"You're young, I don't think it's a problem for you."

"She's fourteen, Vegeta. I think you forgot to mention it.”

"Maybe if you hadn't avoided me during the last few days I would have had the chance to tell you."

"You know very well that is a lame excuse. But I have news that may ruin your plans.”

"Are you going to plant your wife at the altar?"

“I think it's too late for that, it would be a shame for us and especially for her, her father could sue us for damaging her daughter's image or for the cost of what he has already invested in this wedding. So no, Vegeta. Maybe if you could really see Gure you would realize, she is a very young girl to marry, although her father thinks she is of age, or even if she believes it herself.”

"So what's the news you have for me?" Tarble smiled without Vegeta being able to take a look at the flash of his teeth.

"I plan not to consummate my marriage, not until she feels ready to do so. Who knows how long it takes, maybe a year or two,” he said with a shrug.

"You know very well what will happen if you don't have a child."

"I know it as well as you. I think I will use Gure's dowry to buy a modest house, you know... to start preparing for when our father's inheritance is taken away.”

"Are you going to allow Nappa to keep the mansion?"

"Let the mansion go to hell."

And while Tarble was ecstatic about Vegeta's disengaged expression, the count remained silent thinking deeply about the consequences of what Tarble had just informed him. He still had some money in his accounts that didn’t come directly from his father's inheritance, but was significantly less than he needed to hold to continue leading the life he had so far. His plans to leave Bulma's expenses to Tarble's care began to crumble, along with everything else.

"There is something else I must tell you," said Tarble, interrupting his thoughts.

"More good news?" He asked trying to sketch a crooked smile.

"Yes, but they are not for you. I've located Bulma's sister as you asked me a while ago. I have known for a couple of days already, it was difficult for them to find her. Apparently, she is living with a pseudonym since she went to the new world.”

"Did you contact her yet?"

"Yes, probably at this moment she is learning what happened to her family and is on her way."

The null expression of the count didn’t reveal the enormous amount of ideas that roamed his mind at that moment. If Bulma's sister arrived, she would probably take her with her from the other side of the continent. If she was married, maybe they could take care of her, given the news Tarble had just told him.

"Perfect..." he said in a strange tone.

"I only share this with you for her. Perhaps now you realize that everything you have done is leading you to an inevitable path to loneliness.”

Vegeta lifted his chin and listened to Tarble's words, piercing through him accurately.

"You are so convinced that everything you do is fine that you don't realize that all you do is get everyone away from you. I hope you get your sight back, really, because otherwise a rather miserable life awaits you.”

Everything that had happened in recent weeks hovered over him like a great weight that left him without air. There was no space in his mind to sort his disturbed thoughts. He felt upset, unable to know where to start.

He heard his brother get up and leave without saying anything. He heard his footsteps move away, leaving him in the hardship of his own mind. He fell silent and tried to calmly think about his next step, but there was too much there. He stroked his forehead, the headache didn't help.

Where to start? Perhaps on the idea that in less than a year he would be losing his mansion at the hands of his stupid cousin. If Tarble was so stubborn in not fulfilling his marital duties, there was no way that came to mind that could force him. And the mere idea of doing it made him nauseous, he couldn't get that far. He had already come too far to accept that engagement. He had to be done with it, there was no solution. Eventually he would lose the mansion and there was no way to prevent it. No... Yes, there was. The formula had always been in front of him and he had refused to consider it. And perhaps his blindness was no more than a pathetic excuse to avoid saying out loud what he really wanted. So many years clearly expressing his contempt for that archaic custom. Despise that only managed to grow under his father's insistence to make him take a part of it. His mother’s infidelities, the little attachment of his father. An unfaithful fiancé. A sexual handbook of foreign wives with little or no reluctance to cheating on their husbands. Everything seemed now as a convenient excuse for not taking that step.

He had contradicted himself the night before and still remembered his own words, which had sprouted very naturally because of it’s irrefutable truth. Bulma was an extremely intelligent woman and had proven it countless times. And just as he had admitted that virtue, he had said she was smart enough to choose her own husband.And remembering, those words echoed in his mind, the words that led to their long-awaited union for the first time.

_If you are going to marry someone… I want it to be with me._

In a way, to deny that Bulma knew what it meant to marry him was, at the same time, to deny the same virtue that had flattered her. Perhaps he could say that, besides being intelligent, she could be really reckless. Reckless and stubborn, foolish. As insistent as to, against all omens, build a carriage engine that would really work.

The problem there, obviously, was him. What did he really wanted?

When asked that question, the answer didn’t take long to appear in his mind. He wanted her to have the fulfilled life she wanted so much.

Her smiling face was drawn in his thoughts without asking for permission. He remembered the color of her blue eyes and the blush of her cheeks when she was close to him. He heard her voice speaking his name, in that peculiar tone that had bristled his skin when he made love to her. The effusive and exaggerated form in which she expressed herself when she was excited, so shameless and improper of a lady of her caliber.

He also remembered the woman he found that terrible night in which Black had tried to dishonor her and a knot tied in his stomach. If there was something he did not want, it was that another man could treat her the same way.And if he lost his mansion there might not be much he could do to give her what she wanted. Her sister would probably be on her way and he had to tell her eventually and that might change her plans. Would Bulma abandon her invention to go to another continent?His chest twisted tightly and he clenched his teeth. His body tingled inside indicating an urgent need to do something about it.The door suddenly rang. He knocked a couple of times and Vegeta hoped there was someone close enough to hear it. The blow was heard once more and he dared to raise his voice.

“Who is it?” he asked.

"It’s Raditz," he replied with some doubt in his tone.

The count felt relieved, he wouldn’t have to walk that horrible blind journey to the door before a stranger. He recognized his tone and told him to come in. He opened the door surprised by such unusual reception. He looked to the sides and soon found the earnest face of the count. He approached him and Vegeta heard him leave something on the couch. Raditz was carrying a huge lump in his arms and after depositing it on the couch he went to the bar and poured himself a drink.

"Isn't it too early for that?"

"My night hasn’t ended since yesterday, thank you very much for that," he said before drinking. “In addition, it’s the best cure for a hangover.”

Raditz still pretended to have drunk to the same extent as the count. The truth was that the night before had ended terribly sober and at the end of the night he began fell the thirst over his throat, but the tasks entrusted to him left him awake throughout the night.

“What is it?” He questioned intrigued by the bulge on the couch.

"I'm glad you asked. It is a gift.”

“For me?”

"You don't have to make that face. It's not for you, it's for Bulma. And no, before you get strange ideas, it's not from me, it's from you.”

"Now it turns out that I bought her a gift."

"Not one, but two," he added, approaching him to leave a box in his hands.

Vegeta felt the velvet under his fingers, the box was small and fit perfectly on the palm of his hand.

"I let it to be charge on your account. I assumed that she would need a dress according to the ceremony, and of course, I brought some matching earrings.”

“How thoughtful. To what do we owe this courtesy?”

"Well, she's a woman... women like gifts."

"I doubt she'll settle for a dress."

"That's why I brought the earrings."

"Don't you think it's a kind of bribe?"

"Come on, Vegeta. She is a woman like any other. Women love them, I don't remember an occasion when something like that hadn’t taken me out of trouble.”

"Bulma is not a woman like any other. This idea is stupid.”

"Well, it may not be the solution to all your problems, but it will surely make her forget for a moment what a prick you are."

"You're taking a lot of dares today."

"Since we talk about dares, I think it's the best time to inform you that I bought a suit for me on your behalf."

"Which will be deducted from your next pay, of course."

“I wasn’t expecting any less from you.”

"I guess you didn't come here just for this."

“Of course not, we already have a wedding date. It’ll be in three days, now I’ll go to the Marquis for the guest list.”

"What I hate most about all this is that this damn mansion will be filled with strangers."

"Hermit life suits you better. I haven't seen that expression on you since... I think I've never seen it.”

"Don't make me think about that."

"I have to go now. I have half a day of travel and I haven't slept a damn minute thanks to you.”

"You're welcome," he said grinning wickedly.

Suddenly Raditz's hand landed on his shoulder.

"Good luck," he said before leaving knowing that that simple word would delve deep into Vegeta's self-conscious mind.

After hearing the door close, his fingers hovered over the small velvet box that rested on the palm of his hand. He stroked its texture with his thumb, undecided. He was bothered by the uncertainty that had overwhelmed him for some time and somehow, he missed the tranquility he had before he met Bulma. But at the same time, he was opposed to the idea of her leaving. His skin begged him to do something, he felt agitated and nervous just thinking about the possibilities, but he tried his best to be stoic. Maybe life would be extremely mundane without Bulma. Everything aspired to be boring if she left the mansion. He imagined the echo of those walls when he stopped hearing her screams. He remembered the mountain of papers that she gathered with plans of her projects, the books thrown away undoing the unpolluted image of his mansion. The ephemeral encounters that they had shared the first few days, and without realizing it, just thinking about it, he had planted a smile on his face and a warm sensation eased the vestiges that lay on his chest. Yes, he deeply wished that she could live a fulfilled life, but a selfish part inside told him what he really wanted. The deepest desire firmly rooted in Vegeta's heart. He wanted Bulma to stay.

“And?” He heard her voice.

Her annoying tone was heard in the room and he was surprised and somewhat embarrassed by what was going through his mind. His smile cleared.

“Have you introduced yourself yet?” She continued.

"Yes... They are resting in their rooms. Tarble already knows that we’ll advance the nuptials, you don't have to worry about that anymore.”

“And what is that?” she asked with intrigue blurring her tone, watching the lump that was laying on the couch.

The count suddenly remembered the box in his hands and clung to it tightly. There was no point in hiding that dress, anyway, it was for her and yes, Raditz had been wise to think about it. She would eventually need it and he had no choice but to tell her the truth.

"It's for you," he said in a pitiful tone.

“For me?”

She carefully got rid of the fabric that covered it to protect it and discovered a fine light blue dress under that mantle. Vegeta heard her hold her breath and for a moment wondered if Raditz could have been right. Bulma stroked the fine fabric with the tips of her fingers, marveling at the finishes of the dress. Then she turned to him with the same expression of deep surprise.

"It's beautiful," she said almost without air and her gaze got lost in the velvet box. “And that?” she questioned doubtfully.

The count raised the box in front of her.

"It's yours," he said and felt as if he were delivering more than just a pair of earrings.Bulma watched Vegeta's static expression as he lifted the small box in front of her. He took it carefully and thought she understood what it was and what that paralyzed gesture was coming from. She took the box in her hands and saw him in the eyes, over his black glasses. Suddenly she felt nervous, as nervous as when the count had rushed over her lips, infecting her anxiety. Her heart rumbled within her chest for the expectation that was generated by what was happening. So fast and unusual.Could it be that he had finally decided?Anxiously waiting for a ring inside that fine package, she opened the box and her expectant gesture became the purest disappointment.Bulma saw the earrings with her face plagued with the most visceral bitterness.

“Are you kidding?” She bellowed as disappointment swept her from head to toe.

“What?” He questioned without understanding what was happening in front of him and felt the box fall hard on his chest, but he managed to take it before it fell to the ground.

"You are a jerk!" she said turning on her steps. Then she returned by leaps and bounds and took the dress and snatched the earrings before leaving. “Asshole!” she said before leaving.

Disturbed was the least he experienced after the outburst that Bulma manifested after seeing the earrings. What kind of horrific earrings had Raditz given him to react that way? The helplessness of not being able to see invaded him again along with a murderous desire to find Raditz and beat an explanation the shit out of him. What had that idiot really given him? And if it was really horrible, why the hell had she taken them anyways?

“Wait!” He shouted, unable to control himself, rising from his seat.

“No!”

“Come back here!”

Bulma returned like a fervent flare. Her steps echoing in the enclosure.

The count felt her fearsome presence coming over him and lost his balance, falling back on the couch.

"If you're not going to show the least of respect for me, at least do it for your guests. You can't be screaming in this house while they are in the other room resting after their trip! At least be polite.”

"Explain to me right now what your damn problem is."

"I don't owe you any explanation, much less when you haven't given any to me."

Vegeta went silent, unable to respond to the implicit request on her words. Indeed, as he thought, Bulma was waiting for an answer to that confession she had made.

"That's what I thought," she said finally hearing his impending silence.

Once again, she had left and left him with the most terrible feeling, in the shortage of his own world, as dark as himself.

Absent from words, he remained in that same place thinking once more of his own cowardice. Since, he had finally realized the reality. He was so afraid to tell Bulma that he couldn't marry her, as he was afraid to ask her to marry him. What kind of useless coward had he become? Not even his blindness made him feel as invalid as his lack of courage to face that woman.

The afternoon went torturously slow and at dinner, as expected, Bulma didn’t accompany them. Her presence at the table would only bring more questions as to their relationship and apparently; she preferred to pass as a simple employee rather than reveal the true reason she remained in that house.

On the other hand, he had justified the constant use of the glasses by saying that after his accident he had developed a strange sensitivity to light. Gure seemed extremely convinced of it and, with enthusiasm, shared her experiences thanks to a similar condition that she herself suffered.

The days passed quickly after that encounter and their paths had barely crossed. And he hadn't found the right time to inform her that her sister had already been located. Maybe he hadn't even looked for her and, quite the contrary, had avoided it. Something inside him forced him to remain silent and keep that information, not knowing how much it could affect her future. He was behaving in such a selfish way that he disgusted him and eventually decided to tell her after Tarble's wedding.The day arrived and he had completely lost his way. His goal wouldn’t be met even by forcing Tarble to marry. He was still surprised at the detachment he had for that mansion in which they had lived all their lives. And maybe he himself would have to start getting used to the idea of what he would do with his life once everything was taken away. Somehow, he had stopped caring. Perhaps he had never really cared and his obstinacy only fell on that desire not to let that cousin hold all that was his. But, what else did it matter?

The feeling of defeat seized him while he dressed his suit to attend the modest ceremony that would take place in the church. After the celebration, he would look for her and share with her that information he had jealously kept. He was surprised at how much he was afraid that she decided to leave his side when she knew it, by having a better option than him and his cowardice.

When he left his room, he heard the excited murmurs on the first floor. Gure's sisters had arrived the night before and the house had been flooded with giggles and gossip. The employees of the Marquis had arrived before, to take care of the decorations of the great hall and now about thirty employees wandered around the mansion, carrying tablecloths, chandeliers and food in abundance. No doubt Gure’s father had spared no expense at that wedding, that of the youngest of his daughters.

"Count," Raditz's familiar voice greeted him when he saw him emerge from his room, so well-groomed that he seemed to have healed of his blindness.

The girls greeted him politely and he snapped a: _ladies_ ; maintaining his unbreakable facade in every dark step he took.

"How was the gift?" He said, sketching a smile that if the count had seen he would have erased it with a punch.

"What the hell did you give me?" He asked in a whisper.

"See you at the church," he told the girls who laughed at his shameless smile. “What do you mean?” He whispered, turning to the count as they headed for their carriage.

"She didn't like them, she hated them."

"Did she reject them? The woman who sold them to me said they were the best they had.”

"Surely she saw your stupid face and rip you off."

"They were expensive, she had to liked it. I can't believe she didn't receive them.”

“Actually…”

“What?”

"I don't know whether to say she accepted them. When she saw them she wasn’t very happy, however, after insulting me and leaving like a beast, she snatched them out of my hands.”

"Then the problem wasn’t the earrings. Do you think she was under the idea you were going to give her a ring?

Vegeta felt a real jerk by not realizing before what had really happened in front of him. Of course, the small velvet box had given her ideas even before seeing its content. The count stroked his forehead, incredulous at his own stupidity. Maybe he was so absorbed in all his problems that he simply missed something so obvious. Bulma was waiting for a marriage proposal from him and he had only given half, and the rest had been nothing but a cruel joke. She would probably be hating him at that moment, cursing his name in every corner of that huge mansion.

“She’s not coming?”

"She apologized to Tarble, said she would feel more comfortable in the celebration than in the church. I would kill to have that option, but having been me who officiated this arrangement, I have no alternative.”

Upon arriving at the church, Vegeta felt vulnerable and for a moment he missed Bulma's hands wrapped between his arm and her whispers under his ear, like that time in Black's father's wake. It had been so easy for him to camouflage himself in the crowd with her at his side, taking care of every step he took, that now it seemed like hell on earth, as he was guided by the incompetent of Raditz.

He took a breath, waiting for the ceremony to end as soon as possible. The only thing that comforted him was that he would stand without saying a word most of the time, listening to the cleric's speech.

The count soon found a place next to Raditz, away from the crowd and yet present in the sight of his guests, who fortunately were not many. The curious eyes remained on the outskirts of the church, intrigued by such a hurried marriage outside the most common time for their celebration. The bride soon arrived along with one of her sisters, wearing a pompous pink dress. The church was called to silence and shortly after the doors opened and Tarble made his way to his wife, who was waiting for him with a radiant smile that inflated his cheeks. The cleric stood before them with a stern face, secretly intrigued about the idea that this girl could be pregnant and prayed to himself that God would forgive such a terrible sin. He cleared his throat and with a bible extended over his left hand, he began.

“We meet here, in the eyes of God and those present in this congregation, to unite this man and this woman in sacred marriage.”

Vegeta couldn’t avoid a grimace that was born from the depths of his body when he heard it. As a reminder of all the reasons why he detested this ritual to which he had forced his young brother. And although he wished to possess the ability to turn off his mind completely and not listen to that sermon; he was forced to remain there in its presence.

“Which... is an honorable state, instituted in the times of man's innocence. What does it mean for us? The mystical union between God and his church, and therefore no faculty of man to interpret it at will.”As if the words alluded directly to him, he listened with more attention than he wished."Not to satisfy his carnal desire and appetites, but to do it with dignity, faithfully, soberly."Certainly, his mother hadn’t been lectured that way at her wedding, and if she had been, she hadn’t paid much attention to it either.“And in the fear of God, only considering the causes for which we were ordained. First, it was ordained for the procreation of children.”And that his father had taken it into account, and had taken a firm responsibility to let him know."Second, as our remedy against sin and to evade fornication," the cleric said loudly over his throat, invading the compound.Vegeta couldn't help smiling, totally unconcerned with his own sins.“Third, so that the mutual society helps and comforts each other. Both, in prosperity and adversity, in health and disease. In this sacred act, this couple present, come now to be united by God.”

A virgin kiss sealed that ritual and after being officially declared husband and wife, Tarble took the hand of his young wife and between shouts and applause of joy they left the church to get into a carriage finely adorned with roses of different colors and vermilion garlands. Raditz applauded, it was the first high society wedding he had witnessed and was ecstatic about the silhouettes of Gure's sisters, trying to control his manners so as not to cause his troubled friend more trouble.

After seeing Tarble disappear with his wife and how the guests came out to say goodbye with shouts and excited laughter, he turned to Vegeta who seemed absorbed in something he could not understand.

Although he had mocked that process and it really seemed like a terrible torture, the cleric's last words were impregnated within him as a poison. Was he willing to live in misery by her side? To take care of her in sickness? And if so, how could it be worthy to carry out such a commitment? It was impossible, even taking value from where it was no longer, even gathering the vestiges of old Vegeta and leaving aside the pride that burned his skin so much, he couldn’t take care of her in that state. He wouldn’t allow her to lead such a sinister life. So unsatisfactory. Even gathering the courage to ask her not to leave. Before he could tell, he let out a relieved sigh in the carriage back to the mansion, but found no calm between its walls. The Marques had walked quickly to him, seeing him getting out of the carriage. Fortunately, Raditz had had the opportunity to warn him by the time the tired man hugged him in a hug full of gratitude. Vegeta was stunned and when he overcame the surprise generated by that affable gesture, he patted his back.

"I can't tell you how grateful I am for this marriage. I never saw my daughter so happy; I think the city air has suited her well. She’s radiant.”

The count nodded, uncomfortable at the reality that he had never laid eyes on Gure.

"I am sure it will be a beneficial union for both of us."

"And a more appropriate one, for the age of both of them. They won't have titles, but now that I know she is in good hands I can fall asleep at night like never before. When you get married and, if you have daughters, you will understand the heavy burden of finding them good husbands.”

"I don't doubt it," said the count.

"We're family now," he commented with a broad smile, shaking his shoulder. “If you need anything at any time, feel free to count on me. I owe you a lot and my gratitude will last until my last breath, dear count.” After saying those words he gave him a last hug and said goodbye to finalize the details of the celebration that awaited them.

Despite having been a hurried and unusual wedding, the marques had spared no expense and Vegeta knew that maybe a hundred people would join them that day. He had barely had a few minutes for Raditz to read the guest list and after hearing thirty names he got annoyed and simply asked him to confirm that no undesirable person was part of that list. Neither Zamasu nor Nappa.

The maquis’s gratitude felt undeserved, since that union, far from benefiting Tarble and Gure, did nothing more than satisfy his own selfishness to fulfill a commitment that had finally always been his. However, everything was done, he couldn’t take back all those notorious mistakes. Probably all he could do now was start drawing a new plan of what he would do with himself once the money ran out. Tarble had the good idea of using Gure's dowry to acquire a modest property. Sadly, he would have to contact his accountant to know the real state of his bank accounts and thus know for sure what he had to carry out the rest of his life.

He had spent hours in his office thinking when the door rang and Raditz came in once more, he seemed to be the only person who spoke to him during the last days.

"They are waiting for you, the guests will soon arrive," he said, adjusting his shirt in the reflection of the window.

"Let's finish with this..." He stammered before getting up.

When he arrived at the room he felt overwhelmed by the sounds that surrounded him, so many steps, so many grinding crystals. Musicians rehearsing a waltz, women laughing. It felt like an uncertain sea and everything around him worried him. The arrangement of the tables, the people who passed quickly by his side, greeting him quickly before leaving hurried to finalize the final details.

Raditz escorted him to a table and as in the ceremony, he chose a strategic place in a corner where he wasn’t too far from the main table, but far enough away to avoid as much contact as possible with the rest of his guests.

He asked for a glass of whiskey almost as quickly as he sat down and waited, trying to calm down, for that ominous celebration to end as soon as possible. The orchestra began to play a piece by Niccolo Paganini, so majestic that for a moment he had the opportunity to simply listen to it carefully, away from the hustle and bustle of the venue. Tarble had arrived with his wife and they shared the main table with her family. Vegeta knew that his place was there, but he had apologized to the bride for that discourtesy, insisting that those places were destined for her large family. Of course, his only goal was to go as unnoticed as possible.

"I definitely have good taste..." Raditz said through clenched teeth. “Get ready, here comes your headache.”

Vegeta straightened his back instinctively. The idea of not being able to see how that dress he had given her fitted was annoying. He frowned, clinging to the glass in his hands. He heard a chair near him grind and knew she had sat at his table. There were still two seats left in that circular table, which probably nobody would occupy during the rest of the night.

"Good evening, gentlemen," she said with great disinterest and looked around in ecstasy at the beauty that that lavish room had acquired, the same that remained in total abandonment when she had entered the mansion for the first. The same place that had accompanied her on her sleepless nights. “The marquis had worked hard to bring this room back to life.”

"Yeah, you should officiate more events, Vegeta."

"I’m counting the minutes for this event to end..." he said, returning to his nearly empty glass.

By the time all the guests had taken their places in the living room, the weiters left the kitchen carrying lavish plates of food. The waste was so obscene that not even with Raditz on the table could they finish the dishes served in front of them. Or maybe it was also because of the poor appetite the count seemed to have that night.Before eating, the marquis had stood up, the orchestra went silent and those present heard the heartfelt words of gratitude expressed about the union of his daughter with the young Tarble, inviting them to celebrate with them. A round of applause invaded the room, thunderous and feverish, and when the marquis raised his glass to Vegeta's table, the count felt a blow to the ribs.

"They're waiting for you to say something...”

He had expected that terrible situation to occur, it was to be expected that the only direct family member of the groom would say a few words. But Vegeta wasn’t the friendliest man in the world, nor the best at the time of wasting words of affection. Bulma couldn’t avoid the worry that invaded her to see how he stood up and all the looks of those strangers scrutinized him. She herself had experienced that terrible inspection when she entered the room and heard in the distance laughter and inappropriate comments. Her face wasn’t yet erased from the memory of many of them, nor was the memory of the embarrassment of the previous dance. Fortunately for Vegeta, the marquis was so desperate to marry his daughter that he overlooked such indiscretion.The count, already standing, cleared his throat and held up his heaped cup.

"I thank you all for your presence in this celebration," he lied and thought for a few seconds his next words, undecided. “Tarble has always been... an exemplary gentleman. A man devoted to his family, so much so that he has often put aside his own life for the welfare of mine... I have no doubt that your daughter, Marquis, has been left in the best hands. I wish you both a prosperous life,” he finished as he raised his glass. “Cheers for the bride and groom.”

Bulma raised her glass next to the rest of the guests, with rubbing faces of alcohol, from Gure's family ecstatic with happiness. The count soon sat down after drinking from his glass and wondered where the words he had just spit out came out, without knowing if he had really told any lie in his speech, in addition to his first thanks.

The night went on naturally, the couples got up to dance when the orchestra played again and Bulma couldn't take her eyes off Vegeta, wondering the same thing as he did when he finished his narrow speech. She had never heard him lying, however, the situation was worthy of it.

Tarble and Gure withdrew after he shared a few words. As usual, they would spend their first night together and the next day short trip to one of the properties of the Marquis awaited them, where they could spend their honeymoon. The rest of those present would continue to celebrate their union even without them. The sisters danced, the father shed a few drunken tears when he saw his last daughter, already married. The mother smiled with lush cheeks. And at his table, Vegeta drank glass after glass of whiskey without speaking to her, as he had done in recent days.

"I'm not going to sit here all night with you, couple of mutes. Can I go introduce myself?" Raditz questioned the count, smiling at a young lady in the distance.

"You can't," Bulma replied, "it's improper. A gentleman who knows her should introduce you to her.”

"I hate those stupid rules."

"That's how things work, you just don’t buy a suit and become a gentleman," Vegeta added.

"I'll go out to take a break then, and maybe someone will do me the favor of introducing me to one of these ladies."

"Stay away from married women, I don't want scandals tonight."

Raditz walked away with a funny smile on his lips and, before leaving, looked from the corner of his eyes at Bulma's earrings.

"Nice earrings," he murmured far from the count to hear and she blushed quickly.

"I guess neither of us will socialize tonight," Vegeta said, mired in the idea that he would probably spend the next few hours tolerating that woman's silence.

"You guess wrong," she replied before getting up from her seat.

Perplexed, he heard her retreat and remained completely alone. His only company being that of the music that sounded thinly behind him and the glass between his damp fingers. Restless at the idea of what Bulma could be doing at that time, even more than he was worried about Raditz's improper behavior. But what else did it matter? It would all end after that night, when he confessed to Bulma that her sister was on her way. "Won't you invite me to dance?" suddenly asked a female voice.

Her particular tone was easy to recognize. He still remembered her laugh and how much it irritated him. It was her, it was Briggitte. And knowing that she was there, by his side, just at that moment when he felt so miserable, he was amused and his lip rocked in a tiny smile.

"I have no desire to dance with anyone," he replied briefly, without even bothering to pretend he could see her.

She stopped and, with some curiosity, looked at the glass in his hands. His fingers clinging to the glass, his countenance overwhelmed... His image seemed rather that of a man drowning his sorrows in a canteen and not that of a man celebrating his brother's marriage. And with that same curious animosity, she sat next to him. Vegeta heard the chair beside him crawl on the floor and knew she had sat there. It would definitely be a long night.

He took a long sip from his glass, trying desperately to relieve that terrible feeling in his stomach.

"You look worried, count..." his ex-fiance snapped, turning to the room to see the couples dancing to the beat of the music. “What is it that afflicts you?”

He was silent, no response left his throat and when he heard her he wondered why he felt so upset. Why did he cling so tightly to that glass?Brigitte smiled. While she hadn't known Vegeta much in his youth, she had never seen him so upset. It was a mystery what had him that way."Aren't you going to tell me anything?"

"Why should I give you explanations, you above all people?"

"I would understand that you resent me after what happened."

"No... I have no feelings for you. On the contrary, I think I should thank you. You freed me from a marriage I didn't want.”

"Your honesty is somewhat abrupt, as I remembered it."

He drank again from his glass and then she knew there would be nothing she could say that would make him share that misery that beset him in his mind. But somehow, perhaps from her own experience, she thought that perhaps that misfortune came from the hand of some woman. And at that moment she remembered the young lady who accompanied him during the wake where they had met again.She looked up and looked for that face, not knowing for sure if she could remember it since she hadn't paid much attention to her. However, when she saw a woman with bluish and short hair, she realized that it could not be no other. She was talking with a gentleman, quite far from them. She was so sympathetic in that talk that she didn't even feel Briggitte's inquiring eyes requisitioning her. After having found her, she looked at Vegeta and his face was bitter and knew with certainty what his problem was.

"I didn't see you so disturbed even when you met my lover..." He smiled. “Although, if you never wanted to marry me, I understand that it didn't cause you any pain,” he was silent for a moment. Vegeta continued without letting go a single word. “But she does cause pain, doesn't she?”

When she asked that question, the count's face turned to ice. His glass hung in the air, a few inches from his lips. She had hit the nail.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"What was the name of the girl I saw you with a few days ago? I forgot her name.”

She had managed to bother him too much, but Vegeta had no way of getting up from that table to leave without showing that he was completely blind. He clenched his teeth and cursed his luck.

“Bulma.”

“Oh! Yes, I remember... Briefs, isn't it? She is a very pretty young lady, why is she not here sharing with you now?”

“Why so much interest?”

"I can't help it. Since I met you, I thought of you as someone very serious... Inflexible, even hateful, if I may...” Vegeta heard her unbearable laugh again. “I’m surprised that someone has been able to pierce that shell of yours to have you so worried.”

"It seems that I wasn’t the only one who was glad to have dissolved that engagement."

"Well, if we're going to be honest... I regretted not having respected our engagement."

“I'm not surprised. You ended up married to an old man.”

"It wasn't as bad as it sounds... He took good care of me while he lived. He was a good husband, a correct husband.”

"What do you regret then? That he hadn’t had a longer life to keep you living a luxurious life?”

"What I regret is having fallen in love with someone who didn't love me back... If my marriage was going to be arranged one way or another with someone who wouldn't bring me any happiness, I would have preferred not to have loved another before. Do you know how a broken heart hurts? It is a very lasting sensation; I would say it is unforgettable.”

Her words echoed over the music. Vegeta remained static. He didn’t expect such an answer. He would have sworn that she had sat by his side with the sole purpose of seducing him and that he would eventually find himself in the situation of rejecting her advances.

"You have read too many love poems."

"Strangely, I never liked reading. I prefer music really. Why don't you dance with Miss Bulma? I'm sure you knows how to do it, given your education.”

"I don't see why it should be of your business."

"I think I always found you curious, even though at that time I didn't consider you a good husband for me. So tight, somewhat boring... But the years have been good to you, I must admit.” The count was silent, drinking again from his glass with some annoyance. “It would be the most correct thing to respond to my compliment in the same way.”

"If you came here looking for compliments, you came to the wrong place."

"In deed, I didn't come here for that."

"What did you come for, Briggite?"

"To quench my curiosity for that miserable face that you carry at this moment. It's as if I saw something of me in you now.”

"I doubt we have something in common more than a truncated commitment."

“Oh, no. You have the same unhappy appearance of a corrupt man for a love. Don’t deny it. You are here, drinking non-stop from that glass that doesn’t stop filling again and again. She is on the other side of the room talking with a group of gentlemen. So far from that smile you had when she was wrapped in your arms, accompanying you as a wife should do. It was strange to find out that you aren't even engaged, were you  courting her?”

"Don't say nonsense," he replied quickly.

"Every time you deny it, you only confirm my suspicions even more. And don't believe that the years have only changed you, I know that you have never spoken badly about me even after what happened. Not a single word, as if it hadn't happened. It is something that I respect, and I thank you. For this reason; I will always owe you the same courtesy and what I share on this table with you will die on my lips. If my suspicions are accurate, I would like to give you some advice, even if you have not asked for it, and even if you are not able to receive it...” Brigitte took a bottle and poured herself a drink in front of the count and without receiving any response, she continued.

At times I regret knowing that man. I trusted him and he abandoned me for a check that was allegedly worth more than myself. Even... when I think about it, I feel a deep pain in my stomach as if I was living it once again, no matter how many years go by... How much money do you think they gave him to leave? Well, if it had been otherwise... I don't think there was enough money to get me away from him. His love, on the other hand, did have a price... And you, count? Does yours have a price? You cannot deny that this painful expression isn’t that of a man who suffers for a woman. Does your love have a price?”

"Perhaps the faculty that that man lacked off was honor."

“Honor? You have meddled in more foreign marriages than I know. Let's not talk about honor. Don’t lie...”

And, unwittingly, Vegeta wondered if there was anything on the face of the earth that seduced him enough to leave Bulma. The answer puzzled him. Nothing came to mind. Not even the certainty of being able to keep all his property and his fortune was worth enough to turn his back if she needed him. In fact, he had already done it without questioning it too much.

Her words about love only bothered him. He stirred on his chair and drank again from his glass with more anxiety than before. Briggitte smiled, this dejected Vegeta had made his face an open book. And realizing that she had obtained an answer, although he hadn’t given it directly, she knew they were the same.

"I never thought someone like you could fall in love. And if I'm not mistaken and your bitterness is caused by a problem between you two, I suggest you solve it while you can. Or maybe your time is running out and someone else willing to take his place will show up…” she commented, looking from the corner of her eye at the gentleman who was still talking with Bulma.

Briggite left him shortly after, leaving him with a strange feeling in his chest. The certainty that Bulma was conversing with other men at the time disturbed him greatly. His frown, as usual, didn’t seem that of his usual expression of annoyance but rather the most pure and pathetic concern.

Away from him, Bulma had found a pair of familiar faces. Old acquaintances of her father that she had known in the past and now, with the certainty that she couldn’t rise in a fortune thanks to her invention, she swallowed her pride with all the force that it required and walked to those men to try to trace a new way, less worthy than she had thought.

"Miss Bulma Briefs," one of them greeted her courteously. She felt strange for a moment. “I don't remember the last time I saw you, I'm very sorry for what happened to your family, it was very tragic news.”

"Thank you for your condolences, my lord."

"My lady, let me introduce you to these gentlemen. He is Nicolas Lockhart, he is a trade minister, Levi Hamilton, Adam Reed,” he continued presenting them until the last of them. Bulma made a polite bow and released her best smile in the hope that these gentlemen would give her unparalleled opportunity.

"Your beauty has taken my breath away," one of them said, smiling at her.

"You’ll make me blush, sir," she replied, simulating modesty and for a moment she turned to the count. Briggitte sat beside him and a sudden poisonous feeling was born in her chest.

"Would you grant me the honor of dancing a piece?" He asked, interrupting her thoughts.

It wasn’t exactly what she planned when she introduced herself, and yet she couldn’t refuse if she planned to sweeten his ears with that proposal she had been planning.

"The honor would be mine."

The gentleman took her hand and raised their union to join the couples dancing. His hands on hers felt strange, but more strange was the feeling that Vegeta could be watching her and think the worst, even if she knew he was blind. _El trino del Diablo_ , was heard in the air while dancing.

"Where could I look for you, to invite you for a walk in the park?"

"Uhm... At the moment, this is my residence address..." she replied reluctantly.

“Here? Are you a relative of the marquis or count?”

"None..." she said as they danced, taking advantage of the ephemeral moments in which their bodies approached."Excuse me, miss, but I don't understand."

"The count is my partner; I am living in this house until our bond is over."

“What bond is that?”

“A working bond.”

"Do you work for him?"

“With him.”"And what kind of work could a woman like you do?"

Something woke up in his gaze, a shrewd glance that ran from head to toe. Bulma knew that look, she knew what he was thinking.

“Concubine?” He whispered in her ear and Bulma stopped dancing, abandoning his hands and sketching an expression of contempt, congested by such a terrible accusation.She turned on her steps and proceeded to withdraw from the room, but the man followed her until he found her in a less busy hallway. Bulma had had enough of that party.

"Wait, excuse me, it wasn't my intention..." he said in a pleading tone. She stopped and turned to him. "I didn't want to be so bold, there, in front of everyone..."

"It's okay..." she replied, crossing her arms.

"But what the count is paying you... I can double it."

Unable to control her emotions, she slapped the man's cheek and didn't feel a hint of remorse. But she quickly saw the anger swirl in his clear eyes and feared for a moment when he turned to her.

"Is everything okay, Bulma?" she heard a few steps.Raditz had seen her hurried out of the room and the gentleman behind her. Getting to hear his painful words. The other, caught at the same moment in which he wished to return the blow to the young woman who had just slapped him, straightened and adjusted his jacket to make a slight and obfuscated farewell gesture.

"Don't listen to that jackass," he said, standing beside her.

"It's what everyone thinks of me, right?"

"Only those who don't know you."

“Then it has no case, those who don’t take me seriously for being a woman will not do so because I live in this house with a man who’s not married with me.”

"Those are the rules, right? You said it yourself, it's improper. And you chose it, you could have left when you had the opportunity, if at any time you stopped having it. But you're still here with him. That says more about you than of Vegeta. Try not to get in trouble, this is almost over, and if it helps you feel better… you were not the only one belittled tonight.”

"I can imagine," she said, smiling. “But the celebration is over for me. I'm going to rest.”

"You do well, I'm going to make sure Vegeta doesn't drink the entire cellar.""Do us that favor."The celebration ended, as torturously slow as Vegeta expected. And after receiving the last thanks from the Marquis, he waited for each of his guests to retire until there was only the servitude raising the plates and cups scattered throughout the great hall. The band had withdrawn, there was no laughter and there was only a great echo that only reminded him that he had to talk to Bulma.Without further ado, he got up and made his way to the first floor in the dark, waiting for her to be in her room. He climbed the stairs slowly and knocked on the door, but no one answered. She wasn’t there.

Then he heard the sound of the screaking wood under the fire, the library fireplace was lit. It was a place where Bulma used to spend a lot of time and imagined that she would probably be there, reading once again.

When he made himself present, his body was lit by the flames burning in front of him. The air felt cold.

"Good evening, count," Bulma greeted him, revealing her presence.

"We have to talk..." he said in a tone tarnished of a terrible feeling.

Bulma felt the weight of the approaching conversation, ruffling her skin. Her heart rumbled strongly on her chest, as the prelude to the most heinous conversation she would have in her entire life.

"Sit down..." she asked and saw him maneuver up to the couch she was sitting on.

"There is something I have to tell you."

"Why do I feel it's bad news?"

He smiled sideways; he hadn't realized how pitiful his tone was. But he already knew why he felt that way, all day had served to open his eyes to what really troubled him.

"It's not bad news. Tarble has found your sister... he already sent her a message, a few days ago. It’s a good thing for you.”

"Are you asking me to leave with her?"

"It's not what I said."

“It’s what you imply.”

“It’s not like that.”

"That’s the only thing you have to tell me?"

He knew well what she was waiting for, what anyone in her place would expect. With the alcohol still burning on his lips he felt his mouth open and not a word came out. He didn't know how to start, he didn't know how to properly reject her. He didn't even want to do it, it was just something he had to do, even if every fiber in his body begged otherwise.

"I can't..." he finally said.

"What is it that you can't do?"

“Marry you.”

Bulma gasped. A stabbing pain pierced in the middle of her chest and remained static watching his face.

“Why?” she spat angrily. “You used me?”

“Of course not!”

“Then why?! Why do you come to rescue me by risking your own skin?! Why do you sleep in my bed when I can't sleep? Why do you kiss me and stay by my side if you don't want to marry me?” she exclaimed, feeling furious tears emerging from her heavenly eyes.

"Because I have nothing to offer you."

“I don’t want your money!”

"Maybe you don't want it now, but when I don't have it, you'll need it. In less than a year I will be without this mansion, without the properties, without my father's inheritance. What do you want me to do?! That I marry you to take you to misery? How could I take care of a wife while being blind?”

"I thought you had solved it with Tarble's marriage."

"I don’t, the clause states that I must have an heir and be married for my next birthday.  Tarble already told me that he isn’t going to consummate his marriage, so all this is for nothing.”

"Did you give up?"

"What do you want me to do? That I marry you and hope you are pregnant every day until the date arrives, and then stay in the street. Is that the life you want me to give you?”

"I've already been on the streets, Vegeta, and if I hadn't found you I would have found another way. I never gave up!”

"I will not allow you to carry a blind husband and not one, but two lost fortunes."

"But you are capable of carrying my crimes with you."

The count was speechless, and the only thing that reached her ears was the sparks in the fireplace. Suddenly, Bulma's snowy hand rested on his cheek. And as she stroked his skin, he felt electricity running through him deeply. He closed his eyes, hidden behind his glasses and heard her broken voice, while her warm breath permeated over his nose.

"Tell me the truth, do you really want me to leave?" Her question completely disarmed him and perhaps, driven by the alcohol that ran through his veins, leaving behind everything he considered logical, he was sincere.

“No…”

Vegeta raised his hand and felt her face settling under his touch. He wiped a tear that stained her face and felt deeply weak.

"If you trust me, you will believe me when I tell you that we will get out of this... And if they take away your fortune, we will make a new one together. You just have to believe in me, and believe in yourself again... You are a strong man and have done more for me than anyone else in this world. Let me help you now, it's my turn...”

Wrapped in her spell, weak in will to resist the way her hands caressed him, he dared to approach her and their lips joined again. Bulma kissed him softly, entangling her fingers in his black hair. Traped by the count's strong hands. His gloved hands lost in the curve of her narrow waist.

Bulma took his glasses and set them aside. Their noses brushed and breathed the same heavy, wet breath. They wanted each other. Soft and gentle, like never before. As if an eternity wasn’t enough to delight in its flavors. As if everything was going to end after that kiss that became more desperate by every second.

He ran his chin, leaving kisses intoxicated with the scent of her perfume and the natural essence of her skin. He heard a soft and perfect moan escape from her throat, vibrating under the touch of his lips. Starting to trace a map on her body with saliva. His heart beat hard on every inch of his skin.

She ran his hands over his neck, his collarbone and then began to take off his jacket. To unbutton one by one the buttons of his vest. Without neglecting her lips, he helped Bulma in her desperate task and wrapped her face again in his big hands.

Bulma's cold digits stroked his bare chest and waist, like a balm for the suffocating heat that burned his skin. Suddenly she gently bit his lip and felt how he was dragged to lean over her.“Here?” He asked almost breathlessly. “Someone can see us… ” He dragged her over him, feeling a deep and disturbing pain between his legs.“Your room?” She whispered in a sweet groan and took his hand to stand up and guide him quickly.When Vegeta heard the door close, he soon felt Bulma sticking to him, kissing him again in despair. He ran down her back and fingered all those annoying edges that held that complex structure together, her dress, but he couldn't help but taste her swollen lips, his tongue lost over hers.Bulma loosened her corset anxiously, as if her clothes itched and was the most terrible barrier between both bodies. Her clothes fell to the floor, after much effort, and the only thing left was a simple silk dress that she took between her hands and withdrew over her head, ruffling her short hair.

"I'd die for being able to see you," he whispered.

“Can you feel me…”

She took his hands and placed them on her chest, breathing deeply delighted by the count's pleasant expression. His lips parted open, sighing his warm breath in that cold room. Impregnating the skin of her breasts. Feeling her nipples harden under his touch. He squeezed them suddenly and shut with his lips the moan that Bulma couldn’t finish uttering.She wrapped his broad back with her arms and slowly backed away as he marked every inch of her with the tips of his fingers. When her legs felt the edge of the bed behind her, she dared to touch him in the same way. She lowered one of her hands to the pants were still waiting to disappear from the scene, and stroked his erection over the cloth. He growled under her surprising touch and she bit her lips, delighted. She unbuttoned those last buttons and put her hand there without asking permission, gently massaging it.

"You're going to drive me crazy..." he said.

His hands, stripped of his gloves, caressed the delicate skin that lay between her breasts and stifled a snort when he felt her shiver. He extended his palm under her belly button and slowly and tortuously stroked her skin, at the same rate she massaged his erection. He went down again, further south of her figure and groaned softly when he felt the moisture that lay waiting for him between her legs.

Her forehead fell on her cheek, sighing agitated with every obscene touch of his fingers. How much he had missed it, that glorious sound, without equal. He wanted her so much, like never before, like no other woman. Like nothing in his life.

  
With his other hand he took her by the neck and heard her groan his name. Worshiping the tone of each syllable and wishing to listen to it at all times for the rest of his life. He wanted her, he wanted to make her his that night and all the following. And that no one else could ever put an eye on that silhouette that he himself couldn’t appreciate but that he could feel as intimately as any other. Because she was his.

He kissed her again as possessively as he had never done. And she, dragging him in that kiss, lay on the bed. Wrapping his body with her white unpolluted legs. Feeling him sway over her body and moaning of the sheer pleasure of feeling her skin burn under his.

"Vegeta..." she sighed again next to his ear, while he bit her neck, tangling his fingers in blue tufts. "

Then..." he gasped. “Are you going to be my wife?”

"What?" She stammered, feeling how he adjusted his erection over the soft folds of her sex, wet and hot.

Desperate for her, he pushed with his hips and felt her arch her back, uttering those words that enveloped him in a spell. His name had never sounded so good. He leaned on the mattress with his hands, rocking slowly, listening carefully to each moan that came out of her in each trust.

"Marry me," he said, bringing his face close to hers, breathing her warm breath.

"Yes..." she replied, sinking her nails over his back, dragging him back to her lips.

Lost in her, he made her his own and now with more desire. To his future wife. Leaving blind trust in her words, since she was a woman who could make the impossible possible. As she had done with him.

In the morning he felt a warm sensation on his eyelids and slowly opened them. The curtain was closed, his torso was naked and on him a delicate white hand. Fine with long fingers, with perfectly arranged nails. Under his arm a warm figure, breathing asleep on his chest. He rocked his hand on that snowy back and slowly felt, vertebra by vertebra, the perfect structure of her back. Then he blinked and looked at her again and finally realized he could see her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me like 4 days in total to translate, I hope you didn't find it boring! I know this could have split in two chapters but I feelt that this had to happend in just one chapter, even if it were too long. I hope you liked it! Thank you so much for all the kudos I recived in the last couple of days and to the people that are so kind to leave a comment. I really hope you don't find too many mistakes, I'm learning as I go :) See you in the next one!


	27. Chapter XXVII

* * *

** IN YOUR HANDS **

* * *

**Chapter**

-XXVII-

* * *

 

His thumb traveled slowly and smoothly over the snowy skin of her back, his digits marking the path of her vertebrae. He stopped when he realized that he wasn’t dreaming, unable to raise his hand from the warmth that welcomed him. He blinked a couple of times and incredulous looked up at the ceiling. A lamp hung, it was morning, daylight bathed the bedroom of a translucent amber through the curtains. His chest was caressed by the breath of the woman he had finally asked to marry after an internal battle that seemed endless. He stroked her again, so naturally that he seemed made to be there, created specifically to lie beside her, as if their bodies had been molded to the need of the other. Lying with a blank mind for the sole purpose of touching her, of wandering on the skin of his wife.

He turned his face slightly over her light blue hair and breathed her scent. His heart rumbled over his chest, with a certain heat stroke, inquiring into his throat, from his hip to his ears, and he realized how good he felt. The calm, the peace. Then he smiled as if the world was finally complete. As if all the pieces of a broken man had found their place in the world. He was happy. And more than satisfied since he could see her again.

She moved still asleep. She rested her small back on the mattress and he devoted himself to observing her neck, her collarbone and under it her bare chest. He throbbed over the simple pleasure of seeing her lying there naked in his bed, in his arms.

With his hand now on her waist, he rounded the curve of her abdomen and felt her slowly waking up. His lethargic body woke up when he heard a slight groan, which without intention had seduced him deeply. He approached her and kissed her neck, just below her ear. In that place he had learned, it gave her chills. In doing so, she slowly opened her eyes, fanned her long eyelashes and, noticing his intentions, didn’t hesitate to hug his broad back as she leaned over him, and pronounced his name in that tone that drove him crazy.

He didn’t lose a second and traced the path with his free hand, from her hip to the inside of her knees. Her chest was dyed pink under the caresses of his lips and he watched carefully every part of her, every hidden corner of her geography with the sole intention of never forgetting the color of her hair, her skin, the way which her body was blushing under his soft bites. He wanted to record it forever in his memory, every inch of her anatomy forever stored in his mind.

"Good morning," she purred with a smile on her lips, closing her eyes to allow herself to fully feel everything the count intended to do with her body.

He felt the vibration of her greeting on her throat, as he covered it with countless kisses and, momentarily satisfied with that space, Vegeta traveled with his tongue through the valley between her breasts, her hands tangled between the strands of his dark hair.

He cupped his hands and touched her breasts, squeezed them gently and heard a glorious and shameless moan. He sucked and bit her nipples until they hardened, her back curved under his hands, she lifted her chin and moaned his name.

His body throbbed strongly over his intimacy when her magical pronunciation came to his ears, louder and faster, insisting on continuing. But he couldn't do it yet, not until he filled his retina with that congested face of pleasure. Not until he recorded in his ears that peculiar way of pronouncing his name.

He came down slowly and tortuously, and gently kissed her belly button, pressing her hips with fingers, spreading her legs, preparing her for what would inevitably happen.

And to Bulma's surprise, Vegeta stopped midway between her intimacy and her navel, breathing heavily, anxious to follow that obscene path. He felt her shudder and doubt, leaned on her elbows and looked at him. Her heavenly eyes perspired a kind of fear for what he was going to do. Her face was deeply dyed pink, like her neck and all the depraved path his mouth had traveled. Her lips clenched in an awkward line, suddenly modest.

But despite that insecure image, he cocked a devilish smile, ecstatic at the simple idea of corrupting every part of her. The smile that caused Bulma to loosen her knees.

“What are you doing?” she asked in a choppy, soft and shaky tone.

"Don't be afraid, I doubt you dislike what I’m about to do."

He took Bulma's thin legs in his hands and came down breathing heavily on her sex, indiscreetly looking at her most private place to make it his own. She tried to close her knees, totally ashamed. But she was paralyzed when she felt the count's tongue in between the soft wet folds of her sex.

Vegeta drowned a roar in his throat and felt it vibrate when he heard the first moan. He looked up and saw her lips open, she frowned as is she was feeling the most visceral pleasure she had experienced in her life. Her legs hardened, almost imprisoning him in that exquisite place and he continued to circle slowly with the tip of his tongue, filling himself with that unique flavor. And he loved it.

He looked into her eyes as she contorted. Each groan louder, twisting in each curve of his tongue until he reached that small swollen site that throbbed hard inside her to the point where the same pleasure began to ache, as if her body was unable to tolerate so much pleasure.An electric current ran through her to the tips of her toes and twisted. Her legs stiffened. Suddenly her hands tangled in his hair, insisting for more. Begging him not to stop without saying a word. Unable to pronounce something coherent, not even his name. Gradually losing decorum and shame. Letting herself be enveloped by the sensations he was determined to give her. Then she moaned loudly until the last pinch of air that inhabited her lungs.

As if it wasn't enough, he didn't stop there. He kept going down and she felt alerted by the disastrous path he was drawing with the dampness of his tongue. But she was too exhausted and excited to stop him in his intentions.Touching her in an unthinkable place with his tongue, which to her surprise left her breathless to continue moaning. He wasn’t going to be satisfied until he marked every corner of her body, until all of her was his.Annoyed and prey of pleasure, she shouted his name loudly and the count's crotch lit in flames. His skin burned and he couldn't stand another second. His hard and wet crotch hurt.

He knelt on the bed and saw her defeated, her body flushed, agitated. Her chest rocked hard and fast over her exhausted lungs. Her arms stretched out on the white sheets, drained of its strength.

He bit his lips, ecstatic at the image that lay beneath him. Incredulous about how exquisite she looked when she was aroused. He took her by the legs and dragged her on the mattress. He took his erection urgently and put it over on her swollen and wet sex. He stroked it, opening its folds, attentive to the suggestive manner in which she accompanied his movements with the swinging of her hips despite being so remarkably tired.

“Are you ready?” He asked hoarsely, begging her to tell him she was.

“Yes…”

Vegeta closed his eyes and pushed on her intimacy, slowly, feeling the path less and less narrow, beginning to accommodate to him. He groaned in a tone so hoarse and desperate that he surprised himself. Its exquisite texture made him forget the whole world. There was nothing else. The world ended in that bed.

He hit that point inside her, that place that let him know that he had filled her with his body and pushed hard. Oriented by the sighs that came out of her lips flushed and swollen. Because of the desperate way she asked him to continue, with more force, not to stop.

He took her by the legs and heeded her orders, thrusting in her as intensely as he wanted, hoping that it could never end. Feeling it more and more humid, more eager for him. Getting carried away completely by the despair of wanting her just for him. Only his.

He opened his eyes and found her clinging to the sheets. Her breasts swaying to the rhythm of their onslaught. How could he desire her more and more just by opening his eyes?He went deep into her and lay on her body to kiss her desperately once more and noticed something strange in her blue eyes. A bit of intrigue slightly tarnished with pleasure.She took him by the cheeks and he knew what her intention were, she wanted to look him in the eye. But he stopped her, took her wrists and lifted them over her head, locking her in a possessive grip as she felt him penetrate her faster and faster.She arched and let him feel her fully, to the deepest centimeter.

“You like it?” He asked, impregnating her ear with his warm breath and bit her gently dragging her lobe with his teeth.

"I love it..." she said detached from the little modesty she had left.Vegeta didn't need more to ram her harder, hiding his face in the curve of her neck, moistening it with the sweat of his forehead.

The count contracted and groaned in that space between her breasts and her collarbone. Spilling into her while trying to catch his breath. Loosening the grip he held on her wrists. Bulma hugged him without any force, filling her palms with the sweat of his back, breathing calmly. With her eyes closed, still feeling her sex throbbing, trapped in the count's. Her heart strongly pumping a warm and calming sensation as the seconds went by, running completely through her body.Vegeta stepped aside, relieving her of his weight and even with his eyes closed a small smile remained on his lips. It didn't seem so difficult to get used to such a life.After a few minutes of pure heavy breaths, Bulma got out of bed and watched him with a sort of uncertainty, but then shook the idea of her head thinking she imagined things. For an ephemeral moment she could have sworn he was looking at her. But no, it wasn’t possible.

The count opened one eye carefully and watched her from behind, stretching her small back while yawning. He watched her stand and walk to the mirror and he was amused by the way she watched her naked body, not knowing that anyone else could see her. When she turned to him, he closed his eyes once again, pondering what to do now that he had regained his sight for the sole purpose of spying on her.Bulma walked to the bathroom and a few minutes later returned to sit on the bed, without a hint of modesty for her nakedness.

“I think we need to talk…” Her comment seemed to break his bubble, however, he sat on the bed intentionally avoiding her gaze and listened attentively to what she had to say. "Did you mean it?"

“Mean what?” She frowned and he couldn't control his cocky smile. "I’m not going to repeat it, and you have already accepted. There’s nothing to say.”

Her smile returned just as quickly; her face still slightly flushed."I think my hand is somewhat naked...”

"I think all of you is a bit naked..." he replied stroking her soft white legs. “I'll take care of that later,” he added, approaching the curve of her neck inhaling the smell of sweat and sex that her skin carried.

She sighed and held on to his torso, losing her fingers between his messy black hair.

"Again…?" she whispered in a choppy tone, feeling his teeth nibble at her neck.

“Why not?...”

"Well..." She raised her face with the sole purpose of giving him more space to savor her. “Do you want to get married immediately to have a child?”

A choked sound rumbled in Vegeta's throat and he raised his obfuscated face.

"That wasn't exactly what I was thinking right now."

"You said it was the only way to keep your fortune."

"I know, but I'm not going to _do it_ because it's my duty, I want to do it because I want to."

Bulma's face began to change, from the calmest expression to one that slowly transformed into surprise. Her eyebrows rose and she opened her big eyes looking directly at Vegeta's black pupil that pointed directly at her. Vegeta had dropped his mask upon hearing Bulma's absurd plans and upon seeing her surprise he realized that he had been left himself in evidence.

She took him by the cheeks and forced his face to face hers when he tried to avoid it.

"Vegeta?" she asked, paying close attention to his pupils.

Suddenly he smiled sideways and she knew that, without saying a word, he had given her an answer. The bliss on her face was enviable and quickly wrapped him in a tight hug, pressing her bare chest over Vegeta's.

“I cannot believe it!” She shouted ecstatically and quickly released him to see him in the eye again, fearing she was wrong. “You're not lying to me, right?”

"I didn't say anything," he replied with his malevolent smile still present.

The count looked into her eyes and then slowly lowered his pupil to her swollen and parted lips. He rocked his face and went down her collarbone to see her breasts and widened his smile. Suddenly Bulma became aware of her nakedness and before she could get away from his scrutiny, he held her in his arms.

"Don't try to hide, I've seen it all."

“All?”

“All.”

Her cheeks were dyed plum, so intense was her embarrassment that he found it funny. Her lips were tight and yet she didn't resist much. Vegeta came over and kissed her breathing deeply over her lips.Bulma felt weak, the joy of knowing that he could now see her was seized along with the joy of knowing that his words the night before hadn’t been the product of lust. He wasn’t sorry.She hugged him, trying to forget that this would be the first time he would see her naked body. But it hadn’t been, as he had already said: he had already seen everything. However, that obscene look he gave her didn’t make her feel completely calm, but she tried to relax and not let herself be dominated by the modesty that had always accompanied her in her past life. Remembering how much she had enjoyed her believing he was blind.She settled down, sitting on the count's hips with her face on fire, observing his satisfied and malicious expression.

"I like that..." he said, remarkably amused.

"You woke up in a good mood," she said, touching him between his legs, feeling under her hands his masculinity slowly waking up once more.He was prepared to respond, but his expression softened as he felt the cold fingertips caressing him, slowly rocking her wrist over his intimacy. A groan came out of his throat, hoarse, from the depths of his lungs.

Bulma was smiling as if she had won a small battle. And her smile did nothing but behave like a magnet for Vegeta's lips, irremediably attracting him.Then, to her surprise, the count lay on the bed and stroked the stretch of her hips to her legs, contemplating the body of his fiancee as she stroked him.

"Go on," he ordered in a purr that got under her skin and gave her an intense shiver.He wanted to see her, Bulma knew it. And embarrassed by the lascivious way in which he watched her, she continued until she saw him close his eyes and squeeze his brow together, grunting his excitement. Her hands got wet from him, for what she was doing. And although Bulma thought about returning the gesture he had had with her upon waking, she preferred not to. Everything was too new to her.She settled on top of him, avoiding his disturbing inquisitive gaze, unable to face the tempting malice of his dark eyes. And while she sat on his erection she closed her eyes and there was no pain, only the overwhelming sensation of his body filling her own.She groaned loudly when he was all inside her, filling her completely. And when she opened her eyes she found him, with parted lips and looking at her in a new way, totally lost in her.

Bulma rocked gently on his hips, her face flooded with pleasure. Her eyebrows united in an expression of enjoyment, her face covered in vermilion. And from her lips came the most exquisite moans that the count could have imagined.He watched her carefully in her soft coming and going and when he regained some sanity, he brought his hand to that small space where their sexes joined and caressed her. Intrigued by the expression she would put to feel all that simultaneously. He parted his lips, surprised by the pleasure of hearing her that way, uninhibited, loose from all prejudice. And he pushed gently accompanying the rhythm that her hips marked, accelerating minute by minute, seeing her congested expression of pleasure. He clenched the soft snowy skin of her legs and teeth when he felt her speed up.Bulma's hands landed on his strong chest, trying to keep her balance.Blinded with desire, he took her by the back and leaned her over his chest, squeezed her bottom marking his stiff fingers on her and lifted his knees, pushing her hips hard, listening to her moans mixed with his. He bit his lips hard and accelerated his pace, getting stronger and faster, feeling her contorting on his chest, groaning his name once more.

A hand left her skin and took her by the hair, pulling lightly to lift her chin and nibbling her neck. When she moaned his name again he failed to contain his own body and spilled into her, for the second time.

She fell asleep, hiding her flushed face on Vegeta’s neck. Drops of sweat pearled her body, making her texture shine. Breathing deeply to regain some strength. After a few minutes, when he finally caught his breath, Bulma raised her face and adjusted her arms over the count's broad torso, drawing the bones of his collarbone with her fingers.

"We could stay like this all day, don't you think?"

A half smile was planted on Vegeta's face and she felt like her heart was coming out of her chest. Unable to remember seeing him smiling so much.

"It doesn't sound bad... But no, I have something to do."

“Are you going out?”

“Yes… We are not married yet and you already control my schedules?” He questioned her quite amused.”

“It was only a question.”

"I'll tell you when I get back..."

“All right, anyway, I also have something to do.” Vegeta raised an eyebrow. "I'll tell you when I get back," she added, winking at him.

Bulma got out of bed and abandoned Vegeta's warm lap. She walked to the window and before opening the curtains she turned to the count, who accompanied her walk with his eyes. But her smile completely vanished when she pulled the curtains apart and sunlight hit his face directly. Vegeta let out a groan and covered his eyes.

"Close them!" He shouted, sitting on the bed with both hands on his face.

Petrified, Bulma closed the curtains as ordered and ran to him. Approaching to see what was happening.

“Are you okay?” Her tone terribly worried.Vegeta withdrew his hands and, under them, his eyes remained tightly closed. His eyelashes wet. A tear slipped on his cheek and Bulma wrapped him in her small hands, wiping it with her thumb. "Look at me..." she pleaded. Slowly and in pain, Vegeta opened his eyes and under his tears she saw his face in disgust. He blinked a couple of times until he could finally open them completely, although they still burned as if they were on fire. "Your eyes are red... can you see me?"

"Yes..." he answered for her peace of mind.Bulma let out a sigh and then looked back at him carefully.

"I guess it's natural... you haven't seen direct light in a long time..." She looked around and made a gesture, then turned and put on the count's shirt while he watched her expectantly. “I'll be right back.”

She left quickly, but not before spying from the doorframe to make sure no one saw her leave that room, dressed that way. The count cleaned his cheeks, outraged by the reaction of his body and extremely frustrated by what had just happened. Bulma returned a few minutes later, frowning, thinking of something the count didn’t know.

"Let me try something," she asked, putting back on his face the dark glasses he had used to simulate his blindness.

"Perfect, now I see less than before."

"Maybe it will help you get used to it. Do you want to try?”

Vegeta nodded and, in doing so, she and her determined countenance walked back to the window and slowly separated the curtains. When the warm morning light bathed the room it still bothered him, however, it was a tolerable nuisance and he could still see. Bulma waited, analyzing Vegeta's expression until finally he spoke.

"I think it’ll work."

Another relieved sigh came out of her chest and she smiled again. Enchanted by his appearance. Bulma said goodbye to the count to go for her clothes to her room, but not before depositing a quick kiss on his lips that left him speechless and with a slight blush staining his cheeks. He had never been given one of those. After dressing, she heard Storm's furious whinny and turned to the window. A stable boy helped Yamcha hold the reins of the fearsome steed. When she saw him again, she recalled his proposal, and although she still didn’t have a ring adorning her hand, she was engaged to the Count. And in the same spirit of honoring that commitment, she had to approach him to reject his proposal.

She didn't have to be too dramatic about it, after all he made that offer for the simple purpose of doing her a favor, not because he really wanted to marry her. Or did he? Perhaps what bothered her most about it was that she would have to finally reveal to him that she had fallen in love with Vegeta. And it would probably be very easy to understand her knowing all the nefarious events that had inclined them to be together, but she couldn't reveal half of them without putting herself in danger or Vegeta in the process.

She decided to go down and face him to get rid of that annoying feeling on top of her as soon as possible, but not before performing her most stoic expression.When she opened the door of the service area she ran into Nathalie and other employees, finding in her eyes a curiosity that suddenly made her blush, as if everyone in the room knew what had happened the night before.

"Good morning, Bulma," Nathalie said, smiling mischievously.

"Good morning... and excuse me."

The young woman's gaze became grim when she thought Bulma wanted to escape her scrutiny, but when she saw Yamcha on the other side of the garden, she assumed that her talk could wait a few more minutes.

“I’ll be waiting.”

They had finally managed to calm the erratic behavior of the horse by the time Bulma reached a few meters from Yamcha. He turned to her with enthusiasm in his gaze and a broad, warm smile.

"Could you give us a few minutes, please?" Bulma said to the other boy who accompanied him, who, after nodding, took Storm to the stables.

"How was Mr. Tarble's wedding?"

Bulma blushed slightly, remembering the events that had happened the previous night and that same morning.

"It was quite nice, Tarble's wife seems to be a lovely young lady. They make a cute couple...”

"Have you thought about my proposal?" He asked suddenly.

“Yes… I… I don't know how to start.”

"I think you're rejecting me... right?" He commented with his smile lost on the grass beneath his feet, with his smile tinged with a slight disappointment. “Don't worry about that, did you find a better solution to your problem?”

"Well..." she released a sigh. “The truth is that I’m going to marry the Count.”

“What did you just say?”

"That I will marry... Vegeta."

"Are you serious, Bulma? I know you want to push your invention forward, but don't fall into his claws for money. He convinced you of this? Is he taking advantage of your need?”

"Of course not, Vegeta is not what you think."

"I have lived almost all my life watching women enter and leave this house, parading through the door as service maids. You can't marry such a man!”

Bulma frowned. "I can do what I want with my life, Yamcha. I don't think I owe you any explanation. Thank you for everything you have done for me, but I will not allow you to disrespect me in this way. I'm not going to get married for convenience!”

Yamcha looked into her eyes, his expression breathing uncertainty and a hint of pain.

"Have you fallen in love with him?"

Bulma's heart hit her ribs.

“Yes. He may not be what I imagined when I thought about the man I would marry, but...”

"No, of course he is. It's what any lady like you wants, a man with titles, with a big mansion, money, properties, that's what you wanted, right?”

"Maybe it was at some point, but not now. I’m not marrying him for his money, much less for his titles.”

"Forgive me, Bulma, but I can't find another answer. There isn’t a single quality in him that makes him worthy of marrying you. I fear that you are being very naive and he has managed to coax you with his tricks, as he has done with all the women who entered this house.”

"That is my problem, not yours. And I'm not a little girl to not realize when someone tries to manipulate me, I'm very offended that you underestimate me in this way.”

"Yes... you're right." His countenance changed as did his familiarity. “If you'll excuse me, Countess, I have things to do. Have a nice day and a beautiful wedding.”

“Yamcha, wait...”

"I'm sorry, ma'am. I have to work,” he finished, turning his back. Bulma watched him go and swallowed the desire she felt to explain the circumstances surrounding her recent engagement. She stood for a moment, watching him walk away and turned around, trying to control her impulses.

Upon returning to the service area, she met Nathalie again and, judging by her expression, she had seen their discussion from afar. She tried to ignore her distressed face and took her arm.

"I need to get out of here for a moment," she said, dragging her out of the mansion.

A little fresh air would do her good, she thought as she left the house, wandering the streets of the city. She didn't take long to tell Nathalie the news, and after some effusive congratulations that took away the bitter taste that remained in her after talking with Yamcha, she asked her to accompany her to see some wedding dresses. It wasn’t her intention to buy one that same day, but surely trying on one or two dress would make her feel better and recover the enthusiasm she had lost.

"Do you have a date for the wedding?" He asked as they watched a stained glass window, from one of the most expensive stores in the city.

"We haven't talked about it yet, the whole issue of the will complicates things a bit."

“Why? I suppose if you want to marry him you would have thought about having his children, it sounds like a solution if you ask me.”

"I thought so too, but Vegeta is complicated. If Tarble was sincere when he told him that he wasn’t going to consummate his marriage, it means that the only option would be for me to give him a son. I’m not sure how much time left he has exactly, and he is determined not to have an heir because he is bound to have it. I guess it's a lottery anyway, what would happen if we tried and I have a girl? Anyway, he would lose everything and we would stay in the street with our daughter...”

"I understand, but still you may be lucky... I mean, it's not as if you hadn't consummated your marriage in advance..."

“How…?”

"Oh, please Bulma... The fact that employees cannot comment on what happens inside the mansion doesn’t mean that they don’t do it indoors. Everyone already knows what is going on between you. Why do you think nobody here treats you like Vegeta’s employee? Because you are his partner? They treat you like you're the lady of the house because they think you are. As far as I know, another woman had never spent more than a couple of nights there.”

"It doesn't make me feel any better than everyone knows my future husband's reputation. I would pay for a list of all the women who have paraded through that house.”

"Well, none came out of there with a ring. That is for sure.”

Nathalie and Bulma entered the store. Bulma smiled as she passed a clothes rack full of fine dresses of different colors. The silk under her fingers brought back a memory of her previous life and she smiled. An employee approached them and watched her, surprised perhaps by Bulma's short hair, so unusual for a lady.

"Can I help you with something?"

"Yes, I'd like to see some wedding dresses."

“It will be a pleasure to help you… Can I know what’s the budget you have? To offer you an achording dress.”

"The lady has no budget," Nathalie replied before Bulma had time to doubt.

"Excellent lady...”

“Bulma," she completed.

"Well, what exactly are you looking for?"

She smiled and started to number all the characteristics of her dream dress. Then the employee, with a candid look, saw her in the eyes and told her that he had exactly what she was looking for. When he retired, Bulma turned to Nathalie.

"I have no budget?" she whispered.

"You have to start behaving like the wealthy lady you are."

"I haven't married yet."

"I don't think the count will have objections to the dress you choose. I'm sure he can pay for it.”

While Bulma waited for her dress, the door opened and a stout woman with bulging breasts entered along with a couple of young ladies. Crossing her gaze, Bulma recognized them immediately. They were the same girls who had accompanied her to the dance where she met the count. The same ladies who sighed when they saw Black pass in front of them. She became anxious when she felt their gaze on her, but then she noticed they smiled at her with the intention of approaching to greet. Stoped in their intention, the woman who accompanied them cleared her throat and both stopped.

"I don't want you interacting with that girl," she muttered in an audible tone and they both turned their backs almost immediately. “If someone saw you with her they would believe you follow the same corrupt path.”

Frowning, Bulma turned to Nathalie and the young man who attended them arrived with her dress. Her bitterness went out quickly. The dress with golden lace and exquisite embroidery left her breathless.

“Would you like to try it on?”

"I would love to, thank you very much. It really is beautiful.”

“It is one of our most expensive models, if not the most expensive of all. Your taste is impeccable, miss.”

Inside the fitting room, Nathalie adjusted her bodice until she ran out of air, but it was worth the fatigue to see her tiny waist in the reflection of the standing mirror in front of her when she left the fitting room.

"You look like a princess."

"It's beautiful..." Bulma said, turning from side to side marveling at the fall of her silk and lace skirt."You'll have to buy some matching jewels. The count will be delighted when he sees you.”

Still immersed in her reflection, she could hear some gossip coming from the group of young ladies who had entered the store. They were choosing some dresses for an event a few meters away, and although they tried to keep their conversation between whispers, the voice of the older woman who accompanied them didn’t escape their ears.

"She must be pregnant with that depraved, with the count who has her living in his mansion. What scandal, married to an employee? When has such an atrocity been seen?... She hasn’t even been properly courted, what an embarrassment.”

Bulma's face congested. She felt her skin itching under her lavish dress, boiling in desire to confront that woman. She turned quickly, her cheeks heated from the embarrassment she was subjected to, but Nathalie got in her way and took her by the shoulders. She had noticed her intentions and had probably heard the same words as her.

"Don't pay attention to them. You know those stretched harpies are better than me, don’t give them the satisfaction of knowing that what they say affects you.”

"I know, but..." she looked at her reflection and turned her eyes to Nathalie, who was holding her with determination. “You're right... Anyway, I'd rather leave now. This isn’t as much fun anymore.”

Bulma left her dress and thanked the young man assuring him that she would return at another time. When she left, she tried to control her emotions, the trio's eyes fell on her. She raised his chin, ignoring them and left the store.

“It seems easier to be poor, we simply get married because we want to. Not because someone force us, although it’s always good to find a husband with money.”

"I can imagine, in my case I have been educated so that a gentleman who pretends me to court me for a long time, and then ask me for my hand, but not before asking for my father's blessing. It has never been seen that a woman of my stratum is engaged and living with her future husband... It’s unheard of. This will probably give something to talk of among the nobles.”

"Don't let it matter to you."

"My reputation is on the ground, how am I supposed to not care? I hate the idea of being the talk of a bunch of morons.”

"Then don't give them anything to talk about, I'm sure the count has other properties where you can stay until the wedding."

Her light blue gaze fell on her friend's, as if she had clearly seen something she hadn't thought.

“You are right… If I want to have a good reputation again I have to make it myself.”

Upon returning to the mansion, Bulma had a clearer idea of what she wanted to do from now on. But, although she searched the entire mansion for the count, she couldn’t find him. Surely, he hadn’t returned, he had said that he had something to do, however, she was surprised at how quickly he had decided to leave the mansion after recovering his vision.

Vegeta was sitting at his accountant's office, waiting, using all his patience while Mr. Wallance checked his books. The count saw him squeezing his eyes, adjusting his glasses over and over again, slowly pressing the buttons on his calculator. A piece of the roll of paper full of numbers fell from it, so large that it reached the ground.

"I'm almost done," he said without neglecting his notebooks.

He had already spent more than an hour in that office and Vegeta didn't know where he was getting so much patience from. He looked at the pictures hanging in that old office and the books piled up in the library, his title framed on the wall behind his desk. His coffee had already cooled and had only given it a couple of sips. But he had to wait, he had to know the exact state of his accounts as soon as possible.

“There we go.” He cut the piece of paper from his calculator and handed it to the count. Vegeta looked at the sum at its foot and kept his expression plain. “Your bank statement today, your investments have fallen considerably due to the latest policies of  the parliament, I had already mentioned to young Tarble about voting in the House of Lords… Five properties, in addition to the county: your father's office which is in a deplorable state, if I may mention it; Mr. Tarble's residence and three more on the outskirts of the city. In addition, the property that your grandfather left you, that wouldn’t be part of your father's will so you can dispose of it as you wishes.”

"But if I decide to invest in it, it will be part of the inheritance that I will have to give."

“That's right, property, investments, everything would be part of the inheritance.”

"All right, thank you," he said, rising to shake his hand.

"It's my job," he replied, corresponding his gesture. “And let me congratulate you on your marriage, I hope things fall on track for you from now on.”

"Thanks," the count repeated before leaving.

Vegeta left the office of his accountant in the direction of the mansion. Still thinking about the possibilities for him and Bulma at the end of the day. He hated to have to give all that to Nappa when his next birthday arrived, but he still had a small chance that could leave them relatively well. He had urged to call Raditz urgently, delivering a closed letter to one of his employees. He wasn’t surprised to find him in front of the door of the mansion with a bag, smoking a cigarette. As he got out of the carriage, he saw him throwing it to the ground and turning it off with the sole of his shoe, still under his dark glasses.

"Busy getting my property dirty?" He questioned passing by him in the direction of his office.

Raditz smiled, but his expression changed rapidly. Strange, he followed, watching his safe passage walking through the halls of the mansion.

"Vegeta?" He questioned, but was ignored. “Don't you have something to tell me?”

The earl sat behind his desk and leaned back on his seat, looked at his stunned expression and half smiled.

"It would be fun to pretend that I can't see you to witness you behaving like an idiot. But I want to finish this fast, and when you go out, pick up what you left on my sidewalk. I don't pay my employees to clean behind you.”

"I see you not only regained your sight, but also your sense of humor. This is so emotional that I feel I should give you a hug,” he scoffed.

"I'm touched... Did you bring what I asked?"

"Yes, inside you will find the notebooks and bank statements. Just tell me you're not going to leave me in ruin.”

Raditz put the bag on the floor and crossed his arms, suddenly the office door opened and Bulma emerged.

"I've been looking for you, there's something I want to talk to you about," she said, ignoring Raditz's presence.

"I'm in a meeting, would you mind waiting?"

"Was this your meeting?" She asked confused, raised an eyebrow and looked at Raditz, intrigued by what was happening behind that door. Her gaze swept the bag that lay on the floor, but before she could say anything else the count rose from his seat and walked over to her, leaning over her face.

"Yes, this is my meeting. Now, if you excuse us, we have something important to talk about. Whatever you want to tell me can wait a few more minutes.”

Vegeta closed the door in front of Bulma. Full of courage, she walked down the hall and after a few steps she stopped. She had never gotten an answer when she had asked about what was the work Raditz was doing for him. And because of the aspect of the situation, it gave her the feeling that the privacy he required had something to do with it. Intrigued, she returned slowly, treading cautiously to keep the wood from squealing under her feet.

"Is this all the money?"

"Yes... The place has been somewhat neglected. All these extra hours that you have left me no time to attend it properly.”

"Well, you'll have one last task before taking care of the business." From the desk he pulled out a couple of sealed letters and handed them over. Raditz read the reverse and raised an eyebrow.

“The crown?” He asked when he read the first. “This means?”

“You know what it means.”

Without controlling his impulses, Raditz sat in front of Vegeta with a face full of curiosity.

"Bulma?"

“Yes. You're done? Deliver that tomorrow first thing and return to your work. I will call you if I need you.”

"I'm not done, but I'll give you the night off. Congratulations, count... or, should I say Duke?”

"You are enjoying this too much," he said, crossing his arms. “If I see you smile like that again I’ll break your face.”

“All right, all right. I’ll leave, I’ll be waiting for my wedding invitation.”

Saying that, Raditz left the office. Luckily, Bulma had had enough time to hide from the other side of the hall and, after waiting a few minutes, Vegeta left for her room. Bulma soon entered the office, intrigued by the way Vegeta had come between her and that bag, as if he were hiding it.She leaned silently on the desk and saw it in the same place where Vegeta had left it. Fearing to be discovered, she hurried to open the lock and gasped.Stacks of money tied in leagues filled it. She took one of the notebooks that were there and when she opened it, she found several dates and names, amounts of money, debts and a few invitations. She took a pair in her hands and read them quickly.

"The Black Widow?" she said quietly and heard Vegeta calling her name in a demanding tone, probably irritated by her disappearance.

In a hurry, Bulma hid the invitation in her dress pocket. She closed the bag and left it in the exact place where she had found it. She left the office and closed the door with extreme care, the metallic squeak of the lock barely audible.

Then she walked guided by the sound of his voice. He was in the living room, standing with his hands in his pockets. His glasses barely hanging on the curve of his nose.Bulma wrapped herself with her arms and watched her fiancé, full of uncertainty. She wondered if she should question him directly about what she had seen. What kind of shady business was he venturing with Raditz.

"What was that so urgent you wanted to talk about?"

"It felt more urgent then. What were you talking about with Raditz that I couldn't hear?” she asked, shortening the distance between them.

"Nothing more than a conversation between men, something a lady shouldn’t hear."

"I'm not just a lady, I'm your future wife."

"With more reason, Raditz must take care of his tongue in front of you."

"Since when are you so proper?"

"Did you want an improper husband?" He questioned and cocked a smile, revealing his pearly teeth.Vegeta walked towards her with a penetrating darkness in the onyx of his gaze. Bulma felt herself enveloped by his presence, like a cat in front of a panther. The Count stood in front of her and leaving the pockets of his pants touched her hip and her lascivious gaze peeked the slope of her breasts, losing himself in the depth of her neckline, on the cusp of her creamy skin.

"How improper do you want me to be?" He whispered in her ear, impregnating her ear with his warm breath.

Bulma shivered, weak, struck by his advances. But got suddenly frigid when she felt his hands caressing her over her skirt, fearing he might find the invitation she hid in her pocket.

"To tell you the truth..." she said, pulling him away from her with one hand on his chest.

The Count raised an eyebrow, curious at her sudden indisposition.

"I would like us to begin behaving appropriately to the circumstances."

“What are you talking about?” He questioned without taking his hands off the possessive grip on the fabric of her skirt.

"I want us to behave like any engaged couple."

"I haven't court and I proposed to you after I slept with you, are you worried about our behavior now?"

"I don't want to continue being the talk of all the nobles in the city. I want to know when we are going to get married and until then we will behave as any couple in our situation would.”

"We are not like any other couple. Eventually, I will lose the county and we will be nothing more than ancient nobles, or impoverished nobles. What does it matter what anyone say about us?”

"Maybe you don't mind that everyone knows about your indiscretions, but I refuse to continue to be called your concubine or that they treat me like an outcast."

Vegeta's hands left her hips. His expression had hardened.

“Who told you that?”

"Does it really matter who said it when it's something everyone thinks? If you don't care about your reputation, that's fine, but I intend to safeguard what's left of mine.”

Tarble’s old words came to his mind. The boy hadn’t saved occasion to mention how much he was damaging Bulma’s image by having her there, living with him. However, when he heard it directly from her lips, guilt swirled in his stomach.

"And how will we take care of your reputation?"

"I must move out of this house as soon as possible, if necessary… tonight."

He watched her cross her arms. Her determined expression was something he had seen on countless occasions and he knew there would be no way to dissuade her otherwise.

"The residence that Tarble occupies will be empty until he returns from his honeymoon. You can stay there until the wedding…”

"I'd like to take Nathalie with me, so it won't be so boring to wait."

"Will I have to take you on a walk so that everyone can see how worthy you have become?"

"I guess I can make sporadic visits. And we will have to leave our extra-marriage activities for after the wedding.”

“What is the case? We have already slept at least five times. I've slept in your bed more than I can remember.”

"I'm not going to risk getting pregnant before I’m married! I refuse to feast them with our situation.”

"There are ways to prevent it..." he commented, returning to his cheeky smile.“Abstinence sounds more effective.”

"Is your decision final? Don’t come begging to my bed when you remember the things I have done with your body.”

"You give yourself a lot of credit, my dear count. Maybe you will be the one begging for my affections.”

“Me? Begging? I think you have me confused with another man... Also, now that that part of you has woken up, you will discover how difficult it is to control your skin's anxiety.”

An electric wave swept through her when the count's hands landed on her arms, gently stroking her skin over the thin fabric of her dress. Bulma struggled to control her breathing and found the certainty of his words. Her heart pounded hard, hitting her ribs, bewitched by his gaze that seemed made to corrupt her.

"Tell me you don't want to..." he said and his husky voice caused her a chill.

"It's not a matter of wanting it or not... And my decision is final..."

Although it had taken all her willpower to utter those last words, she felt terribly disappointed when the Count's hands released her and crossed over his chest.

"I'll have a carriage prepared for you immediately, pack your bags. I don't want you in the street so late at night, so hurry up. And tell the maid to prepare.”

"Before I left, I would like to know... what was that so important that you had to do today?"

"I went to see my accountant, I needed to know my bank status. There is a property that will not be reached by the inheritance when I have to deliver all this. Maybe I renew it so we can live there when everything is over.”

"What will happen to the employees?"

"I suppose they’ll go to Nappa when the county is handed over him. Those who want to stay will, maybe we can take some to the new residence.”

“Now that I think about it that way… I increasingly dislike the idea of not complying with the testament clause. When will the deadline be met?”

"In ten months."

Realizing that they really didn't have much time left, Bulma knew there was no guarantee of being able to meet that deadline. Afflicted, thinking about the safety of the employees of the house, she thought what would become of them once the county fell into the hands of Nappa.

"I think we should get married as soon as possible. If I get pregnant on time it will be a blessing, if not, we will have to find a way to take all the employees. I still remember the way he touched Nathalie when he came for his assignment, I won't let the others have to endure something so denigrating.”

“What have you thought of?”

Her heavenly eyes sparkled decision, she looked into his eyes and thought for a moment what she was about to say.

"When we get married, I will patent my invention. I know it will be difficult to find investors, but I am sure that we will succeed. Maybe we can get the money to keep them all and invest in your property, if you lose your inheritance.”

“Perhaps the fact that you are a woman will complicate the things a little. Just as the word about your engine spreads around the city, we’ll have to deal with a bunch of unbelievers who’ll pretend to discredit you for having achieved what they didn’t. Give me a few days, we will prepare a meeting and I’ll convene some people...”

"I think Tarble could be of use right now."

"I guess it's his forte... Go on, don't waste any more time and go pack. Do it before I regret it.”

Bulma smiled with complicity and kissed his cheek before climbing the stairs. An hour later she was on her way to Tarble's residence. And although her relationship with Vegeta couldn’t be better, there was still something that generated an imminent sting in her skin. Sitting between the velvet cushions of the carriage, Bulma stirred in her pocket and pulled out the invitation she had jealously hidden. She looked at the name written there, engraved in a fine, inclined and edged printing press.

**_THE BLACK WIDOW_ **

_To Mr. Ryan Reed_

It was read in the header. The memory of that afternoon in which she’d asked Raditz about his working relationship with Vegeta passed through her mind and all she got was a hint of his murky past. However, he had thoroughly avoided giving her an answer, just as Vegeta had done so recently. And his persistence in not revealing the truth only acted as a severe stimulant for her curiosity. She read that name on the invitation, remembered the bag full of bundles of money, the book and the count's evasion.

"Nathalie..." she told the girl that was staring at the window, sitting in front of her. “What is The Black Widow?”


	28. Chapter XXVIII

* * *

**IN YOUR HANDS**

* * *

 

Chapter

-XXVIII-

* * *

 

Bulma was baffled by what she’d just heard. Nathalie's lips kept moving, describing a terrible place full of women and vices. But what surprised her most was the casual tone with which she described that place, as if she weren’t aware of its depravity.

"But not everyone enters The Black Widow. It is a very exclusive club, although it’s in the darkest part of the city.”

“How can such a place be exclusive?”

“The club is a facade, what is really exclusive there are the bets. Not every guy can enter, even if he has a bunch of bills in his hand. Only high officials can enter, noble, rich people. They have the most beautiful women working there.”

Bulma felt her throat dry, as if it were full of sand. And with fear, she dared to inquire, fearing the most dire answer.

"Are prostitutes there?"

"Yes, the finest... A girl like me could never work there. But... why do you ask me?”

She looked at the invitation she had for the last time, with her fingers clinging to the finely printed paper. She delivered it without much ceremony. And even though Nathalie couldn’t read, she immediately recognized the letters in the header.

"It's an invitation to that Club... It seems that Vegeta and Raditz have something to do with The Black Widow."

"Do you think the Count is a gambler?"

"I doubt it, I never saw him show interest in something like that. I found the invitation in a notebook full of names, possibly debtors of the club.”

"Could he be the owner?"

"I’m afraid that may be the case... I can't believe Vegeta has prostitutes working for him. It’s unthinkable!”

"No, Bulma... The girls don't work _for_ the club, they just work there. They serve the club by attracting gentlemen, but they keep everything they earn. If I had been able to choose, I would have preferred to work in a gentlemen's club a thousand times and not in the filthy brothel where you found me.”

Bulma's scandalized look calmed down, she took a deep breath and although worry didn't leave her, it made her feel slightly better to know that her future husband was no pimp. But her intrigue had grown remarkably, she needed to know what was really going on.

Upon arriving at Tarble's residence, the coachman helped them with their bags and they were received by a small group of employees. Once in the fine guest room, Bulma kept going around, intrigued by everything that club was around. Nathalie was preparing her bathroom, watching her come and go through the bedroom. She looked at the invitation again, it had the address written.

“We have to go.”

"Bulma, that's not a place for someone like you, you could get into a big trouble. What if the count finds out and calls off the engagement for your indiscretions?”

"Oh, Vegeta is going to find out. But not for having found me there, he’s the one who owes me an explanation. How dare he hide something like that from me?”

"What will happen if he’s not the owner?"

"If he isn't, then he's a great gambler or has some other relationship with the club he hasn't told me about. Anyway, that doesn't change anything, we have to go.”

“We?” she asked shocked, leaving her place by the bathtub.

"I can't go alone; you know those places better than me."

"If they find us this is going to cost me my job. What will the count say if he knows that one of his maids is taking his fiancee's hand to a gentlemen's club?”

"He won't know," she said, approaching her, taking her hands. “And if you don't go with me, I’ll go alone, but I have to go see for myself what is going on. Vegeta had more than one opportunity to give me an explanation and he didn't, it's because he hides something from me and I have to know what it is.”

A tired sigh left Nathalie's lips. Then She looked into her eyes and forced a weak smile.

"There's nothing I can say to stop you, right?" Bulma denied. “So, I have no choice.”

Bulma's face filled with hope and she hugged her gratefully. She took her arm and led her to the door, opening it slightly. An employee wandered around the lobby.

"We can't go out the front door, the residence isn’t so big that they don't notice our absence."

"We'll have to wait for them to fall asleep. And we can't go dressed like this, besides... how do you think they'll let you in?”

She took the invitations out of her pocket and looked at it again, then a cheeky idea crossed her mind and she smiled.

"Maybe they won't let Bulma and Nathalie in, but they'll let Ryan Reed and Caleb Lockhart in," she said triumphantly, showing her the invitations. “Tarble's room is on the other side. Once I wore one of his shirts, he is quite small... We’ll return the clothes when we get back.”

"How will we get there?"

"Vegeta gave me some money, we'll find where to rent a carriage."

"Does this mean we’ll do it now? Tonight?”

“Yes! Or I won't be able to sleep all night and I’ll end up spitting everything at Vegeta when I see him tomorrow.”

Nathalie looked at her, reluctant to agree, but Bulma's determined face was enough to know she had no choice. Both waited for a few hours to pass before beginning with the first part of Bulma's plan. They crossed the hall after midnight, walking with special delicacy, even controlling the tiny sound of their breaths so as not to attract anyone's attention.

They rummaged through Tarble's drawers until they were properly dressed, and while Bulma hid her short hair in a hat, Nathalie tied hers as she had seen Raditz do.

"You look like a very delicate man," Bulma said in a whisper, holding back the laughter. She put a small hat on her head and smiled at her. “There are no such beautiful men.”

"This plan has many holes, Bulma. We are going to get into a big problem if something goes wrong, especially me.”

"Nonsense, we're going to get in and out of there without anyone noticing our presence. You will be sleeping in your bed before you know it.”

"Or back in the brothel, who knows."

In the same careful fashion, they left the room. They took off their shoes in hopes of reducing every tiny sound they could cause. They went down the stairs begging that the wood wouldn't scream under their feet, so slowly that it looked like torture. Upon reaching the ground floor they could see the back door. They walked slowly hidden in the gloom, but when Bulma turned the knob she realized that the door was closed.

"Probably the housekeeper has the key," Nathalie whispered.

Bulma looked from side to side, looking for a solution. She made a sign to her friend to accompany her and they went to the kitchen. Bulma opened a window and told Nathalie to go through it while she was holding it, but before heed her instructions she took a knife from the table and hid it in her clothes.

"What are you taking that for?"

"I hope I don't have to use it, just in case."

"Quick, before anyone notices."

The street breeze caressed their faces. Bulma looked around, the street was deserted. There was no soul in the neighborhood. They went out carefully through the courtyard and when the street light illuminated them, Bulma gave a triumphant smile. Nathalie didn’t look so happy and looked continuously in the corners hoping to notice some danger nearby. They walked a few blocks until they saw a carriage and Nathalie signaled it to stop. They indicated the address to the coachman and he looked at them strangely, however, he kept his comments and agreed to take them there for a small fee.

Everything was going exceptionally well, Bulma thought extremely lively once inside the carriage. Nathalie watched the streets with distrust, remembering well everything she lived before knowing Bulma.Upon arriving at the club, Bulma marveled at the huge sign above the entrance. She paid the coachman and got out of the carriage along with Nathalie. She rummaged through her pocket for the invitations and hesitated for a moment, uncertain about her disguise.

At the large entrance door, a tall man looked into her eyes, she tried to hide her features under her hat and gave the doorman the invitations. He looked at them for a moment and then handed them back. They feared they had been discovered and weren’t allowed to pass, but the guy without any expression stepped aside and opened the door for them.

"Welcome," he told them before letting them pass.

The surprise hit her when she entered, the club entrance was ostentatious, however she didn’t expect to find such opulent lamps hanging from the ceiling like golden chandeliers. The walls of dark red wallpaper with gold engravings, decorated with large paintings, magnificent artistic pieces.At first, she only saw tables with assembled gentlemen and an extensive bar. On the other side Bulma could see a great stage with vermilion curtains and a huge black piano. Everything seemed extremely expensive and neatly accommodated.She recognized several faces, illustrious gentlemen of high society drank expensive liquors and laughed with faces congested with alcohol. Lush women sitting on their laps, particularly beautiful, with extravagant hairstyles and colorful dresses, drinking in equal measure as they.The atmosphere was more lively than she would have expected and she was perplexed watching the marble moldings of the walls. Her gaze traveled to the stairs and the upper floor, from which she could see a room with dark glass. Bulma was sure that whoever was in charge would be there, in that place you could see in detail each space on the first floor.

"Let's go to the bar," Nathalie said softly, aware that several curious glances had landed on both. “We have to blend with the crowd.”

Bulma walked to the bar and sat down, still inspecting that strange place that for some reason had a connection with the Count. She couldn't put her finger on what it was exactly.

"What should we drink?" she asked her friend, controlling her tone so that no one noticed how feminine it was.

"Something strong."

"Cognac," Bulma asked the bar tender that had approached her. She looked at the dark tumbler liquid in her glass and looked at her partner's suspicious eyes. She felt little protected by the hat he was wearing, which now looked quite strange while inside the establishment. However, she knew that she preferred to look out of place than to look like a woman. Nathalie drank from her glass with surprising naturalness, as she wasn’t affected n the least by the burning on her throat. "Caleb..." she said, trying to hide. “Where is the betting room?”

"Ryan... I don't know, but I guess it must be in the back. I suggest that we stay here for a moment so as not to seem so eager to know what is behind there. I have the feeling that this will be the quietest place in the whole club.” Nathalie took a couple of cigarettes out of her pocket and after giving one to Bulma, she signaled to the boy who had served them to light their cigarettes. "I hope nobody notices how cheap my cigarettes are."

"I think they are too drunk to realize," she replied, inhaling her cigar. “I’m sure that whoever is in charge is up there. Surely there I’ll find some clue that links Vegeta in all this.”

"You're crazy if you think you're going to get there without anyone noticing."

"What if we create a distraction?" Nathalie watched Bulma's thoughtful countenance, she knew that behind it was an ominous idea brewing. Something so inconceivable that she almost choked on the smoke from her cigarette. "Don't even think about it, we'll see what's back there and that's it. We are going home.”

“Come on! I can't leave without knowing what's behind all this.”

"Talk to your husband, damn it... I can't believe you don't understand how dangerous this is."

Frustrated, Bulma frowned and took a light drink of her cognac. She swallowed with some difficulty and began to feel impatient. Her skin itched with pure curiosity, crying out to investigate every unknown corner.

"Fine, but I can't stand another second. I want to see what's in the back.”

Immediately and without waiting for an answer, she stood up. Before she could escape her sight, Nathalie followed her through the threshold that separated the lounge bar. They walked behind the tables full of gentlemen waiting for the show to begin. Nathalie crashed into Bulma's back when she froze. The curtain had opened and a beautiful girl with red hair had come out to greet her audience. The applause and whistles of the crowd didn’t let her hear her words, she could only see her bright smile and the music began.

Nathalie was right, it wasn't like the brothel. The gentlemen, though drunk, didn’t behave as shamelessly as those she had known. The elegantly dressed women looked sophisticated, not demacrated as she would have expected.

A group of six girls came out behind the curtain to begin to perform a simple show that aimed to hide the flight of their skirts and the little subtle glimpses of their laced stockings.The lights had gone out, which seemed convenient enough to sneak into the back rooms. The room on the first floor had a view of each area of the club and probably also had them in the following. For a moment she feared that someone might be seeing her from the other side without her noticing. She felt like the club had eyes in every corner.She went on her way with her friend behind her and straightened her back, her heart was pumping loudly still inside her body despite the music and the jubilant shouts of the spectators. When she reached the third area of the club, she went through a double-leaf door that remained open and found several game tables and even more people gathered. A cloud of gray smoke from cigars and cigarettes levitated above their heads, she saw another bar even larger than the previous one and triple the number of employees.

“Happy?” Nathalie whispered, but the large game room did nothing but feed her curiosity.

"Should we play?" she asked, almost ignoring her as she took a sip from the glass that was still in her hands.

"Do you think what the Count gave you covers what they bet here?"Bulma walked between the tables and glanced at the chips piled on the green cloth, then looked at the cards in the hand of one of the participants and was surprised to find the man's sight on her.

"What the hell...? Are you looking at my cards?" He got up and threw the cards on the table in a furious gesture.

“Of course not…!” She snapped excitedly and noticed the sharp tone of her voice escaping her lips. She swallowed words and tried to imitate a thicker one. “Of course not! I just passed by...”

"I lost three hands and just noticed you looking at my cards." He took her by the collar of her shirt and dragged her, practically lifting her up in the air.

The tip of her feet barely touched the ground and she could see the faces of those present turning to see her with curiosity. Nathalie pulled the man's wrist, but it was immovable and when she planned to dig through her pocket to get the knife she had stolen from the kitchen, a voice interrupted the show.Another man's hand landed on the one that held her and his grip slowly weakened. She felt herself tremble beneath her disguise like a small leaf in the wind. The gentleman no longer looked at her, his gaze faced the third.

"Don't worry, my friend, I'll take care of this. I assure you that our dealers are professionals and this little one has nothing to do with us. I’ll leave the bar open for you for the rest of the night for this inconvenience.”

"You better..." he growled before releasing her completely and sat back at the table with his face frowned. He raised his hand and asked for the most expensive liquor in the house still frustrated.

When they released her, Nathalie relaxed, but the feeling of tranquility was ephemeral as it vanished when she saw the face of the one who had intervened. The man was so tall that Bulma could barely see his suit under his hat. She felt a strong grip on her shoulder and feared what would happen next. But as she raised her face to him, Raditz's smile disappeared.

“Your…? Agh... Damn it...” he said before dragging them both to the back door.

Bulma stumbled, dragged by the shirt with intimidating force, but had no words to protest. They had caught her. She felt the night breeze on her cheek when Raditz threw her outside the club, in a hallway between buildings.

"Do you want to explain what the fuck you are doing here? And you! Do you know what Vegeta will do with you when he finds out that you are complicit in this stupidity?”

Bulma quickly stepped between Raditz and Nathalie and raised her chin.

"What do you have to do with this club? Explain to me right now what Vegeta has to do in all of this?”

Raditz raised an eyebrow when he heard Bulma's demanding tone. He stroked his forehead trying to calm down and sort his thoughts, fearing that Nathalie wasn’t the only one in trouble. After all, a couple of women had successfully slipped into the club, and perhaps the worst of it was that one of them was Vegeta's fiance.

“How…?” He began, but kept his words. “No, you are going to give those explanations to Vegeta right now.” He turned and saw a couple of employees coming out the kitchen door, whistled and caught their attention. "Tell Cabba to prepare a carriage right now."

* * *

The entrance door rumbled strongly on the first floor. Again and again, with alarming insistence. A maid covered in a dressing gown appeared quickly, running around with her face upset and fearful of what would be behind the door. Vegeta had woken up, he had always had a light sleep but those blows would have woken up anyone, maybe even the boys in the stables.

He heard his name, someone called him from the other side of the door and got up quickly, extremely alert. When he reached the stairs and watching by the rail, he saw the face of his employee, she looked at him somewhat perplexed as if asking for his approval to open. Raditz's voice roared from the other side and he nodded. He feared for a moment that something terrible had happened, something that had to do with Black. His blood froze for a moment that felt eternal. The girl opened the door and Raditz entered like a storm dragging two small men with him.

"What is this scandal?" He asked as he descended the stairs.

Raditz released Nathalie and put Bulma in front of him, head down, with her face hidden under her hat.

"Guess who I found hanging around in the club," he said and removed the hat under which she was hiding.

Her unmistakable hair fell on her face and she slightly raised her obfuscated gaze, but she couldn't look at him, she couldn't see him in the eyes.In disbelief, Vegeta watched his fiancee and then Raditz, he recognized Nathalie immediately.

"I'll take care of her later," he said, referring to his employee. “To my office, now,” he roared, taking her by the arm.

"You don't know the trouble you got yourself into," Raditz murmured to Nathalie after watching Vegeta leave.

Bulma could feel Vegeta's fury increase by every second, the inclement grip on her arm and the force of his footsteps made her shiver for a moment. He put her in the office and closed the door tightly. He looked at her, examined her clothes and didn't know exactly how he felt.

"Explain to me right now what this is all about. What are you doing dressed like this? Don't you realize that...”

"Maybe if you’d told me what the hell you're up to, none of this would have happened."

"Now it’s my fault? What the fuck are you talking about?”

"I want to know what business you are in! You had many opportunities to explain to me what Raditz does for you. How did he so casually help you solve everything about Bla...”

Vegeta covered her lips quickly, taking her by the waist before she dared to continue.

"Do you want to shout it until they hear you at the police station?" He murmured furiously and released her. “You don’t need to know.”

"What I need or not, you don't determine, Vegeta. How can I marry you if you're not honest with me?”

"What else do you want me to do that I haven't done yet? What madness do I need to cross off your list so that you are satisfied? Dammit!”

"I'm not asking for anything crazy! I saw the bag with money, I saw the book with all those names, the invitations!” The Count watched her, more incredulous than before.

"So that’s how you got in? You search among my belongings?”

"I wouldn't have done it if you had simply told me the truth! I want to know exactly what relationship you two have with that club and I want to know right now.”

"I don't think you're in a position to ask for anything."

"I'm going to be your damn wife, I'm in a position to demand the truth!" she watched him curse internally, clench his fists, turn in place and stroke his forehead. He was struggling to remain calm, his cheeks were heated, the veins on his forehead throbbed hard.

“How can you even think of…?” He began in a slightly less brusque tone. “Do you have any idea what time it is? Do you know what would have happened if someone had realized that there were a couple of women in the club, dressed as men? How the fuck did you get there? Did you slip away from... Fuck...” Vegeta knew that there was no human force that could stop the hurricane that Bulma was, he had learned it on so many occasions that he wondered if he really should be surprised by what had happened. He looked at her sideways and terrible images passed through his mind, all the evils in the street looking for simple preys like her, all the atrocities that were lived in the dark fueled by drugs and alcohol. "You are impossible," the Count told her, looking at her with fury and restraint.

Bulma crossed her arms, she wasn’t so upset after all and even felt some embarrassment for what she had done.

"Please don't take it out on Nathalie. She just wanted to protect me, she knew that I would go to the club with or without her.”

"I don't care what she believed, she should never have allowed you to do this stupidity."

"And you think that me, among all people, need someone's permission to do something?"

Vegeta shook his head, not even he could prevent her to do anything without her achieving it amyways.

“Sit down…”

She watched him walking to his desk and sitting heavily, he looked frustrated and extremely tired. He waved at her, getting impatient and she finally agreed.

“When my grandfather passed away, he left me a small fortune in his will… At that moment my father did nothing but recriminate me how improper I was, he insisted with all that nonsense of the heir and… I just wanted to annoy him. When I turned twenty-one I bought The Black Widow, it had just hit bankrupt and they sold it to me for almost nothing... Well, it wasn't me who bought it. I gave the money to Raditz and financed the remodeling, technically he’s the owner of the club. My father was fuming,” he commented and the memory made him smile slightly. He rested his face on his hand, looking toward the window as he searched his memory. “Raditz had spent a lot of time in the underworld and slowly made it grow, I don't even frequent it... From time to time I ask Raditz for books, he takes care of the delinquents and looks for employees. He’s quite good at what he does and brings me a secure income. He pays the police to not bother him and, my name is nowhere to be found. Raditz has his own accountant who is in charge of drawing the numbers month by month... I asked him to bring everything since, as you know... Time is running out and I need to know how much I count for when the term of the will is met. I'm going to use that money to invest in the property my grandfather left me...”

Bulma listened to his story carefully and little by little her curiosity died down. Everything made sense and was extremely thoughtful. Vegeta was really worried about what would happen after the deadline and feared she hadn’t helped at all. On the contrary, she had managed to worsen his mood even though he now looked considerably calmer.

"Satisfied?", he said, arching his brow.

"Then you are absolutely sure that we cannot meet the deadline, right?"

“It's a lottery I don't want to participate in. I can't trust you to expect a child right now, it would be stupid of me.”

“And Raditz is willing to give you all that money? You never thought he could leave and give you nothing? If you can't legally do anything...”

"I thought about it at the beginning, when I wasn't worried at all about what happened with that club. But he seems satisfied with our agreement, he has a secure income and and hires whoever he wants. He has given jobs to his friends, taking girls out of the most filty brothels in the city and the poor boys in his neighborhood. I guess he knows that none of that would be possible without the initial investment. He’s not the type that bites the hand that feeds him, at least for now.”

“Basically, all the money we will have will be coming from The Black Widow...”

"Basically...”

A bold idea crossed Bulma's vivacious mind. Vegeta knew this by noticing her thoughtful expression. She crossed her arms and stroked her chin, wandering mentally in such a terrible plan that it seemed crazy, but at the same time it seemed a genius.

“You said that all the investments you make with the will’s money would go directly to Nappa, when the deadline is met…”

"Yes..." he replied slightly intrigued.

"But the expenses you make, that are not considered investments, would only squander the fortune, before reaching his hands..." Her celestial and daring gaze met his dark. An idea permeated the air and seemed to enter the Count's mind, like a silent connection.

"If I'm thinking the same as you... It's insane."

"It is!" she said enthusiastically and leaned over the desk. “If you really trust Raditz that much and nobody knows that you have a connection with The Black Widow, nobody will suspect if you go to the club and bet terrible amounts of money. I saw it tonight! They waste money without thinking too much, it would be perfect... That money would come directly from your bank account to that of The Black Widow and then...”

"Directly back into my hands... And Nappa would receive a county totally submerged in ruin." Vegeta smiled with terrible malice, savoring in his mind the twisted plan of his future wife. His chest swelled with excitement at the macabre plan that had been set in that office. He looked at her with complicity and found her face excited and satisfied. The small and malevolent genius in front of him seemed incredibly charming, and had he not been so furious with her for her imprudence, he would have made her his own again on that same desk. He wanted her so badly he could hardly believe it. He wandered into the idea, reclining on his seat, imagining possibilities and growing his plan. "The wedding wouldn't be an investment either... If we're really going to do this, we can do it big," he said, tilting a smile.

“Are you serious?”

"I won't be able to invest in your invention, that will be a little more complicated..."

“We’ll have to count exclusively on investors. Maybe it would be too suspicious for The Black Widow to invest...”

“But If Raditz does it… maybe it wouldn't be so suspicious... I know he's been saving money, he's too modest for what I pay him."

"Do you think he would?"

"Raditz would put his teeth on anything that left him money." Bulma rose victoriously from her seat, excited about her terrible plan. But Vegeta frowned immediately. "I don't belive our conversation is over. Tonight, you have acted stupidly, imprudent... You have no idea of how much I want to... discipline your.”

"I assure you I wasn’t in danger at any time."

"Bulma, do I have to remind you that someone cut the reins of my horse in the equestrian competition? I wasn't going to let you leave the mansion without an escort, but I assumed you'd be fine for one night. I never imagined that I couldn’t sleep a night in peace without you committing madness. Tonight, you're going to stay here, and there's nothing you can tell me to change my mind. Nothing.”

"Do you think I‘m in danger too?"

"You're going to marry me, if Nappa was responsible and tried to kill me to keep the county, then you are his worst threat. In his mind you are the only thing between him and my heritage.”

"I hadn't thought of it that way..."

"You hadn’t thought about it at all, otherwise you wouldn't have done this stupidity. Do you have any idea of the atrocities that happen in the underworld? Bah... How would you know, you've been spoiled all your life, locked in your mansion and strolling through stupid dances, you have no idea what they could do to you in a dark alley.”

"Are you worried about me, my dear Count?"

Vegeta rolled his eyes, unable to admit that he was. It was impossible to detail the ill-fated ideas that flooded him and the terrible sensation on his chest of just imagining. Bulma walked to him and in an attempt to calm his fury, she sat on his lap and circled his neck with her arms. She gently stroked the hair of his neck and managed to bristle his skin.

"I promise I won't do it again..." she said in a hypnotic and sweet tone.

Vegeta placed his hand on her slender waist and looked at the shirt she was wearing and his pants.

"Did you steal Tarble's clothes?" He questioned in a discreetly funny tone.

"Please don't tell him."

"Tell my little petulant brother that my wife ran away to go to a club in the underworld, after having robbed him? No... He have more than enough to recriminate me.”

“Your wife? I still don't have a ring in my hand.”

“Choose the largest and most expensive you find, gifts are not an investment.”

Unable to contain herself, she approached him and kissed him gently on the lips. So far she hadn’t realized how much she missed that tingling sensation on her skin. The tingling of blood running through her when her heart was pumping hard.She felt the Count's hand loitering on the fabric of her pants until he found her skin under the fabric of his shirt.

"It's not very attractive, but it's easier to get rid of these pants..." he muttered, taking advantage of the little moment in which their lips parted.

"Don't you dare..." she replied, smiling weakly. “We said we wouldn't do it until the wedding.”

"And are you really so sure that you can keep that vow of celibacy?"His nose caressed his fiancée's cheek, wandering the line of her chin to her white neck and laid a soft, quiet kiss on her.

"Not if you keep doing that..."

“This?” He asked as he kissed her gently again.

Bulma sighed weakly, unable to stand up and leave his warm lap. She felt the Count's hand calmly unbuttoning her shirt, dragging her body with his other hand to rest it on his chest.

She had run out of objections when he reached into her shirt and touched her bare chest, squeezing the soft skin of her breasts, playing with his thumb, tracing circles and accelerating her pulse.

"Vegeta..." she sighed before letting out a low moan.He neglected the task he was doing on her neck and raised his chin to look her in the eye. His calm and funny expression felt like doom and took away the little strength she had to refuse him.

“One last time...?”

The hoarse sound of his voice bristled her skin and although she was sure of her conviction to keep her promise, her body betrayed her and she kissed him on the lips. She took his face in her hands and a sudden despair consumed her. She needed to have him one more time. Vegeta was right, something in her had awakened that caught her skin on fire in a simple instant and with the simplest touch.

She wiggled on his hips and the Count's hands traveled to the pants she was wearing. Quickly, desperately unbuttoning with the help of his wife's stunned hands. Bulma leaned back on the desk when he got rid of her pants. Sitting on the Count, she felt his hands traveling her most private place.

"You're ready..." he said when he felt her moisture, satisfied with how simple it had been to leave her in that state.

She blushed at the natural response of her own body and dropped onto her fiancé's chest, gathering her figure on his to feel him perfectly. She looked over her shoulder and smiled as she moved her hips suggestively.

“You too…”

Vegeta snorted and dropped down on his seat, she was right, and he had to have her right now. Under Bulma's back he hurriedly removed the bedding he was still wearing and released his erection. He dragged her tiny body over his chest and helped her settle, desperate to feel her again. She moaned softly, the Count felt drunk with desire, his chest was pumping hard, his heart was pounding all over his body and especially between his legs. He closed his eyes when he finally felt her sit on him, slowly and torturously, but he couldn't have her so calmly, he didn't feel like making love to her tenderly. He circled her chest with one hand and clenched her breasts until he heard her moan loudly, entering her impatient to fill her with him.

"Are you going to continue disobeying me?" He murmured into her ear with slight difficulty, breathing hard a warm air over her ear.

"Maybe..." she answered between groans, imprisoned in the count's arms and that statement only served to incite him further.

“You drive me crazy…”

Immersed in Bulma's moans of pleasure, he watched her pink, congested expression writhing over her chest. Suddenly he stood with her and threw all the things on the desk. An inkwell fell to the floor and stained the desk with black liquid, but it did little to affect the Count's plans for her. He turned her dexterity and took her hips to raise her to the table. He urgently removed her pants from the knees and spread her legs to join him in an intense and desperate kiss. Stroking his tongue hungry and intoxicated.

Bulma sank her nails into his hair, pushing his face against hers so he wouldn't stop kissing her, while with her other hand she tried to keep her balance slightly on the table. Vegeta soon stroked her again, gripping her tightly, sinking his hands into the soft skin of her bottom. Roaring his moans when he feel the texture of her wet intimacy attached to his. Quickly and forcefully, feeling peacefully his throbbing body pressed against him. With his name between groans echoing over his ears. He had never taken her so hard, with such desire mixed with helplessness. With so much desire to subjugate her, if only there, in the most intimate act. With the satisfaction of knowing her increasingly wet and eager for his discipline. Bulma dropped her back against the table and left her body at the Count's full disposal. Her familiar expression let him know that there was little left to end with her, but Vegeta couldn’t finish without seeing her writhe with pleasure and left her hip with one hand to touch her there, in the exact place that made her delirious. But before doing so and to Bulma's amazement, he opened his lips and wet his fingers with his tongue to moisten her even more than she already was.

She watched that disastrous act and her modesty grew for a moment, just before feeling the delicious touch of his fingers on her swollen intimacy. She couldn't help it, she loved his evil ideas. Ecstatic, he watched her writhe on the table, arching her back until her breasts peeked over her unbuttoned shirt. He didn't know what excited him the most, the feeling of being inside her or watching her contort at the expense of his own hands. But he didn't have time to find an answer when he felt Bulma's legs harden around his waist and he penetrated her hard until he spilled into her.

He rested his forehead on her slender abdomen, his sweat mixing with hers. Breathing hard, feeling the accelerated sway of her chest and the subsequent trembling of her defeated legs. It seemed incredible how much he still wanted her after having had her; he had never felt such an attraction for any other woman. They had never made him feel so upset, they had never irritated him to such an extent either. Only she had that power over his body.

He got up tired and she kissed him sweetly, sitting again on the table. With such tenderness that he had never allowed anyone else. He lifted his pants while Bulma closed his shirt and looked at her again, dressed in his brother's clothes. He felt his palm wet of black ink and an idea crossed his mind with malice. He rested his fingers on her chin and stroked her. Bulma smiled innocently, unable to notice his true intentions, believing that the Count was only having a sweet gesture toward her. He touched her chin and then ran his thumb over Bulma's lip, which seemed odd.

"Much better, your costume is more convincing now."

She frowned without fully understanding what he meant, but when he removed his hand from her face she felt a cold moisture on her chin. She stood up and took a bronze cup that lay on a shelf and looked at her distorted reflection. Vegeta had drawn her a mustache and a beard dusted with ink.

“What have you done!”

"It's the least you deserve after what you did today. Maybe that way you won’t think about sneaking out of the mansion.”

After dressing, they both returned to where Raditz and Nathalie were waiting. He hadn’t taken long to make use of the Count's bar and waited impatiently as he walked from side to side. Nathalie was sitting with her arms crossed, fearing that she would be fired quicly.

"You," said the count, "go to the employee residence, we'll talk in the morning."

"Yes, my Lord," she replied politely before retiring, not without giving Bulma a worried look and be surprised by the spots on her face.

Bulma moved her lips, "Don't worry," she said without making a noise behind Vegeta's back.

By the time Nathalie retired Raditz was waiting remarkably annoyed to speak with his employer.

"And how is it that two women were able to enter the club so easily?"

He thought his answer, he really didn't know how the two girls had slipped trough security.

"You should rather be grateful that I found them when I did, or else your wife would go to the altar with a blackened eye... At the very least."

Vegeta raised an eyebrow and turned to her. Bulma shivered under his furious gesture.

"Didn't you say you hadn't been in danger at any time?"

"We had everything under control!"

“Under control?” Laughed Raditz. “That guy would have broken your neck like a dry branch.”

Vegeta saw her again with a noticeable frown.

"Go to the room, I want to talk to Raditz alone."

“But!”

"Now," he said, containing his tone.Bulma knew she couldn't argue with him again, and although she was upset she kept her words and turned reluctantly to wait for Vegeta in his room.

Once alone, the Count sat down. He was remarkably annoyed by what he had just heard, but he had to have that conversation with Raditz to get everything solved for the next day.

On the first floor, Bulma didn't know if she should wait for him wandering around the room or getting into bed in hopes of appeasing his fury.

His conversation was long, time was endless. She had to solve the problem she had put Nathalie in, there was no way she would allow Vegeta to fire her because of her. It had been almost an hour when she heard his footsteps approaching the hall.She had already gone to bed and turned off the lights, and when the knob on the door squeaked she thought she might be able to postpone his reproaches if she fell asleep. He stood by the doorframe for a moment, watching her, and then went to bed beside her.

"You don't fool me, woman. You snore when you sleep.” Bulma stirred between the sheets and turned to him with a frown. He wasn’t happy. "Never do something like that again. If you want to know something about me or what I do, we'll talk. You are too reckless and naive to really understand what is happening on that side of the city.”

"And you better stop hiding things from me."

"Do you want my damn bank statements too? The Club’s debtors list?”

"You know what I mean, Vegeta," she replied, turning again so as not to see him. “And don't even think about firing Nathalie.”

"What she did cannot go unpunished."

"I forced her, she only accompanied me in case everything went wrong."

“It’s unacceptable.”

"Would you rather she left me alone?"

"If you had the audacity to escape alone, she should warn the staff of your intentions. It's not an excuse. Tomorrow I'm going to fire her, I should do it right now.”

"Are you going to let her spend the night on the street?" She questioned shocked.

"I doubt it's the first time she does it."

Bulma's worried look faced the Count's severe one. She sat on the bed leaving the blankets aside and leaned toward him.

“You can’t! It is my fault, I am completely responsible for everything. I'm sorry… I couldn't sleep peacefully without knowing what was happening.” She was so distraught that, without realizing it, her eyes had crystallized. Even under the night trail, Vegeta could see the tears gathering over her gaze. “I was worried, I was afraid that you were hiding something terrible from me and I couldn't contain myself,” her words began to sound awkward and desperate to find a way to excuse her imprudence. “Please, Vegeta... I'll do anything, but please don't fire her... It's my fault, it was all my fault she didn't...”

  
The Count watched her anguished expression uncomfortable and didn’t know exactly what he should do when the first tear slipped on her cheek. He didn't know what to do with his own hands and it altered him the way she continued talking non-stop with her increasingly trembling words.

“It's okay! Just stop crying!” He said holding her by the shoulders.

Hopeful, she looked into his eyes and smiled broadly. She threw herself on him and hugged him. He remained inert and felt slight sobs and wet thanks on his ear. He circled her barely, awkwardly, touching her back. Then she released him and kissed him, staining his face with the same ink with which he had drawn a mustache on her.

The whole scene had been particularly strange. She sat back on the bed and wiped her face, now with a happier expression.

"Can we sleep now?" He asked tired of dealing with that situation. Bulma nodded and settled back between the sheets. Vegeta lay down beside her and put his arm around her. "But I will discount her a week's salary."

“Five days.”

“Eight.”

“Two.”

“Fifteen.”

"Okay fine, a week… Good night, Vegeta."

In the morning they found themselves in the bathroom, both trying to remove the ink from the scabs until their chins were red from friction. Bulma put on Tarble's clothes again, although Vegeta had insisted on bringing her another dress.

"I'd rather they don't see me get out of here like Bulma, now you'll have to court me like a gentleman would. I hope you haven't made plans because you will take me for a walk in the park.”

"You are becoming too pretentious."

"No, you are badly used to us not being proper. It's as it should have been from the beginning and you know it.”

"It's stupid."

"I don't care, I want to do it."

The count ignored her and shortly thereafter asked for a carriage so she could return to Tarble's residence. However, after being ready he didn’t allow her to leave, saying they had to wait for someone before she could go. By the time the door rang, Vegeta hurried to open, hoping to find someone else, she looked at the woman in front of her. Another little gentleman looked sideways at the mansion while waiting for her.

"Excuse me, Lord. Is Bulma Briefs here?”

She hadn't heard her voice in years, however, she recognized it in her first greeting and stood incredulously. Her sister's dark eyes met hers.

“Tights!”


	29. Chapter XXIX

* * *

** IN YOUR HANDS **

* * *

Chapter

-XXIX-

* * *

 

Her scent hadn’t changed at all. Even if she couldn't see her, she’d have recognized that essence impregnated with a childhood flavor. Her sister hugged her tightly and could feel there was a hint of sadness in her. The bitterness of not having been by her side, taking care of her, in the hardest moment of her life. However, there were no reproaches to tell her. Tights had always been a free spirit, even more than herself. So bold that she was unstoppable, and maybe she had slowly become similar to her without realizing it. She gently let go of her hug and took her cheek, stared at her face and laughed at her appearance. She didn't look like the little girl she remembered, but there were her mother's eyes on Bulma’s face. Under her short hair and manly attire.

"You are all grown up," she said smiling and she felt a tear grow over her gaze. She closed her eyes tightly and looked at her big dark eyes. She had always been taller than her and still was. The years had treated her well, she continued to be as she remembered her, although with a slightly more mature countenance.

"A lot has happened," she replied and looked at Vegeta and the young man who had just entered behind her sister. “Tights, I want to introduce you to my fiance...”

“Your fiance?” She looked at him exalted; the letter she had received from Tarble didn’t mention any fiancé. However, she turned and shook a smile, she raised her hand and the Count observed her gesture and raised his gloved hand to receive it.

"Vegeta," he introduced himself.

"Nice to meet you, my name is Tights. Oh! And he’s Jaco, my editor.”

The young man remained still, with his arms crossed over his chest, watching with curiosity the Count’s mansion almost oblivious to the reunion of the sisters. When he felt the eyes on him, he turned and almost without gesturing shook Bulma's hand and then Vegeta's. The Count was surprised by his clothes and the way he moved, seemed foreign.

“Editor?” Asked Bulma.

"Yes, I suppose one of my letters didn’t have reached its destination... Or maybe it did, but was too late. Jaco and I met while I was writing my first novel. He advised me to use a man’s name as a pseudonym, that way my books would sell better and it worked very well for me.”

"That's why it was so hard for Tarble to find you," Vegeta added.

"I suppose it was a problem. The truth is that I hadn’t realized how much time had really passed until his letter arrived.”

"Time flies when you enjoy what you do," Bulma said, smiling at her and found an accomplice in her sister. She knew the feeling perfectly.

“Now I'm writing a police trilogy, being here will help me with the investigation of my novel.”

Bulma invited her sister and her companion to take a seat next to them in the living room. An employee approached to invite them a cup of tea. Bulma and Tights had many years to catch up, however, she didn't know exactly how much of her story she could share with Vegeta there, watching them.

"So, you came to work here and you fell in love? How romantic! It would be ideal for a novel.”

Vegeta felt suffocated by Tights conjectures, although they sounded terribly convenient. He stretched the ruffles of his shirt when he felt somewhat hot, his cheeks quickly turned red and he looked away trying to ignore their conversation.

Jaco stood up and watched the pictures hung in the room with close attention. And although Bulma had almost completely ignored him, turning her full attention to her sister's adventures, Vegeta hadn’t missed the strangeness of his behavior. Too silent and almost out of gestures.

"Don't pay attention to him, he always behaves like that," Tights laughed when she noticed the Count's gaze.

"Where are you staying? Tarble's residence is big enough for you to stay there with me and Nathalie.”

"It would be perfect. I was thinking of taking you with me, but you're better than I expected and I'm glad, when will the wedding be? I would love to be present.”

"We still don't have a date; we have to wait the crown to answer our letter. We sent it only a couple of days ago. It may take a few weeks, but we plan to get married soon.”

“Well! You are impatient, little sister.”

Bulma smiled awkwardly, it would be easier to tell her all about the will, but she didn't feel free to do so while waiting next to Vegeta.

“Who are we waiting for? It has already taken too long. Tights must be tired and she probably want to rest after their trip.”

"It shouldn't take long," said the Count without revealing more information. “I’ll see that your sister's luggage loaded in the carriage so that you can go together.”

Vegeta rose from his seat before apologizing and went out to the entrance to find the coachman. When he left the mansion, he saw another carriage approaching and an extremely tall boy got out of it. He had messy hair and several scars on his face. He soon assumed who he was and who had sent him. He wore a short linen shirt and dark pants, but his shirt didn't do much to hide his formidable muscles.

The Count watched him walk to him and greeted him.

"You must be Broly," he said and extended his hand. He felt the pressure of his strength under his gloves.

His face seemed gentle. However, he couldn’t disarm his imposing appearance. Almost as devoid of gestures as the boy who had come with Tights.

"Raditz told me you had a job for me."

"Yes, walk with me to the mansion. I’ll explain inside.”

When he came back in, Jaco was sitting next to the ladies. Bulma had sat next to her sister and whispered some anecdote over her ear that he couldn’t hear. He felt alluded when both went totally silent when they saw him enter once again, as if that conversation between whispers they had had to do personally with him.He tried to ignore it and cleared his throat. The glances passed from him to the huge man who accompanied him.

"Bulma, he is Broly. He will take care of your security from now on.”"My security?... Did you hire me a bodyguard?!"

"After last night I have no doubt that you need it." He turned to Broly. “Bulma is my fiancee. Your job will be to accompany her wherever she goes and, if she even thinks to do something strange... I guess you'll know what to do.”

"Vegeta! Can we talk in private?”

Bulma got up from her seat and, in leaps and bounds, got in from of him. She took him by the arm and dragged him down a hall where they couldn’t see them. However, even on the other side of the wall their conversation was audible enough for everyone.

"Don't you think it's a bit excessive?"

"Excessive are the crazy things you can think of! There is nothing to discuss, everything has already been said.”

She crossed her arms, sure that Vegeta's words were final. After having dissuaded him from firing Nathalie, she felt that it was the least she could do. She let out a sigh and watched his determined countenance.

"Do you really think it's necessary?"

"I have no doubt about it. We don’t know what can happen when the engagement is made public.”

"All right," she said tired.

Upon returning to be the small group they had abandoned waiting with attentive eyes. Bulma walked to Broly and raised her chin, he was incredibly tall, even taller than Raditz. His mundane appearance made her think that he had probably hired him for Vegeta. It was very unlikely that the Count knew someone like him.

"I guess we can go now. I have to prepare; I have an date in the afternoon.”

She smiled satisfied and Vegeta drowned an expletive in his throat, exhausted from the arguments. She quickly went to look for Nathalie to quickly inform her of the news and once ready, she took her to the living room to accompany them back to Tarble's residence. Before leaving, Nathalie seized the moment to address the Count.

"I apologize for the inconvenience of last night, my Lord."

"There won't be a third chance," he replied in an icy tone, but did no more to stop them.

Tights took her sister by the arm and whispered something in her ear that made her laugh, but again Vegeta couldn't hear what they were talking about. Broly nodded to the Count and walked behind the ladies to the carriage. Behind them, Jaco had stood up ready to accompany them, but stopped when Vegeta took him by the back, pulling lightly on the collar of his jacket.

  
"I'm not going to let a man I don't know go to sleep at my wife's residence," he said, stopping him.

Jaco shrugged, intimidated by the Count's cold tone. He froze and watched him behind him when he finally stopped that little grip on the fabric of his suit. Vegeta had crossed his arms and felt he had no choice. He had no words to object and turned to Tights and Bulma who watched him containing their laughter. His friend's cheeks were red and she winked at him.

"Don't worry, Jaco. I’ll pass by for you early tomorrow.”

"I'm sure Vegeta will allow you to stay in one of the guest rooms in the meantime. When we are married and I return to the mansion you can go to the residence with Tights.”

"Understood," the strange young man replied in a slightly frustrated tone.

On the way to Tarble's residence, Bulma took every moment to tell her sister about the events that had occurred after her parents died. Since her arrival at the mansion, the robbery at the train, the dance and, although she skipped conscientiously Black's murder, she did mention its investigation. All of her stories terribly captured the attention of Tights, who seemed more interested in taking notes, inspired to write her next novel. Tights was especially intrigued in the events of the previous night and didn’t hesitate to shout her doubts. She found it especially interesting the reasons Vegeta would have for hiring a personal escort for Bulma. Nathalie's obfuscated face wasn’t overlooked.

"You have to promise me you won't tell anyone."

"I promise you," her sister replied enthusiastically.

Bulma looked at Nathalie with her arms crossed and after seeing her nod, she continued. She slightly recounted the story Vegeta had shared with her in the office and was obliged to explain the clause of his father's will, which established that for his next birthday he should be married and have a male heir to preserve the inheritance and county. Then she told them about the sinister idea that had occurred to her, the way they had thought to squander Vegeta's money in The Black Widow and at the wedding so that, once the deadline was over, Nappa couldn’t receive a penny.

"That explains why you’re dressed like that. You are no longer my spoiled little sister, despite the clothes,” she laughed, “You are a woman. And well, your fiance has made the best of you. I'm dying to see that Club!”

Nathalie watched astonished the euphoria of Bulma's sister and didn’t doubt for a moment their connection.

"We can't step on that place again, the Count would kill us. He would kill me right now for hearing that comment!”

“Oh please. You said there were women in the Club, if your husband is going to go bet all his money, I wouldn't want to miss it. It’d be a show and, in addition, I have always wanted to write something about those types of places. What better than seeing it for myself! I'm sure we can convince him to let us accompany him. Now you have a wardrobe as a bodyguard, I doubt something happens to us with a guy like that taking care of our backs.”

"You two are equally crazy."

"It wouldn't be the first time I got into trouble," Tights replied with a smile. “Jaco has never been able to dissuade me from anything.”

"You still don't know Vegeta. I don't think he's willing to take me there again.”

"You're not the only one who has pretended to be a man, Bulma. You don't know what I’m capable of, give me five minutes with your husband and you’ll see that I can convince him.”

"We don't lose anything by trying..."

"Bulma!"

“What? I wasn’t satisfied with what I saw, we spent too little time in there to feel satisfied.”

Upon arriving at the residence, Bulma was received by staff who had apparently received a severe reprimand after the escape of the Count's fiancee. The girls spent a good part of the afternoon sharing stories. By the time Tights learned about Nathalie's provenance, she quickly asked her questions, genuinely interested in her experiences on the streets. Everything she heard seemed tremendously interesting and at some point in their conversation she took a notebook from her pocket and began to take note of everything she heard. As if facing a pair of gold mines.

In the morning, Vegeta had told her that she could use his accounts as she pleased, launching the plan they had created. And although she felt slightly uncomfortable at the idea of making excessive use of his money, Tights soon reaffirmed the idea that her plan was going to be a success, although unconventional.

They accompanied her to buy a few new dresses, necklaces and earrings to match each one. The Count had also given her the address of his tailor and when she announced herself in that shop, they soon took diligent steps to design her a pair of exclusive dresses that would be ready for the following week. Bulma took the opportunity to buy a pair of dresses for Nathalie, she wanted her present at her wedding and her outfit would be no less than that of the other guests.

By the time they returned to the residence they barely fit in the carriage with everything Bulma had bought. However, her wedding ring was still missing.

"He has to buy it for you, the bride shouldn't choose her own ring," her sister had told her."Vegeta didn't even plan to marry, I understand that this is somewhat overwhelming."

"Nonsense, tell him the measure of your finger and let him do the rest. It's his duty.”

Heeding her words, Bulma left the ring displayer and turned to see some earrings instead.After so much time feeling extremely miserable, now she finally felt tremendously happy. Although her sister had disappeared many years ago and was afraid to meet a stranger, she was encouraged by her personality and found familiarity in her way of being. It seemed that the pieces of her life were finally falling where they were due and the panorama was gradually completed.

In the afternoon she waited impatiently for the arrival of the count's carriage. She prepared with special emotion. She dressed in a beautiful light blue dress that boldly accentuated her attributes and Tights helped her form light loops in her semi-collected hairstyle. She put on white earrings like ivory drops and a matching necklace. Nathalie sprinkled her delicately with an imported perfume and when she was ready she put on some white silk gloves.

When she looked in the mirror she felt strange. She had woken up that day to put on Tarble's suit and now she looked like the high society lady she had always been. With the fixed idea that she should recover her lost status.

When Vegeta finally arrived, he felt as if he was riding an unnecessary scene that he really didn’t want to be part of, but when he got out of the carriage and knocked on the door he was speechless when he saw her appearance so finely arranged.

She was flushed and had an innocent smile adorning her face. He swallowed and ran out of words of reproach.

“Are you ready?” He asked, trying to regain his composure. She nodded and grabbed his arm. Vegeta soon felt the sweet aroma of her perfume and a smile cocked on his face. "I see you didn't waste time," he said amused until he noticed that Nathalie and Tights were walking behind them.

"You didn't think I was going out without chaperones, did you?" She commented when she saw his expression.

Vegeta stroked his forehead, it seemed a frequent gesture at Bulma's outbursts. However, lately he seemed too patient and that made her feel extremely grateful.

They both climbed into the open carriage Vegeta had paid for, while Tights and Nathalie followed them closely in another. Upon arriving at the park, Bulma looked around and grabbed his fiance's arm again. Her face seemed full of pride and she raised her chin in a smug gesture.

"I still don't understand what the point of all this is. What do we need chaperones for? Nothing they could prevent I haven’t already done.”

"But they would prevent it from happening again," she replied smiling, walking over a small bridge of polished stone.

"You didn't look so excited about your promise of celibacy last night," he said, remembering the activities they had been involved in when they intended to sleep.

“Officially I have stopped living in the mansion, it will be easier for me to keep my word if we have a pair of eyes watching us. I haven’t given up on the idea of being courted as it should have been from the beginning.”

“You are already engaged, that’s not how courting works.”

"Is it so terrible taking a walk with me?"

The count did not answer. In fact, it wasn’t as disastrous as he had imagined. People walking in the park had barely looked at them. However, he knew that a couple of curious people were enough to spread the rumors throughout high society. And that was exactly what Bulma intended.

“Fortunately, the wedding will be soon and we can stop doing this nonsense. How long do you want us to go around in circles?”

"We were supposed to do this to get to know each other better."

"Is there something you don't know already?"

"Maybe you could tell me a little about your parents... My father was a very kind man, too kind... He was extremely intelligent, but now that I think about it, I think he never had the opportunity to explore his potential. He had many books in his library and liked to read them to me from time to time. Thanks to him, I ended up studying so much without realizing it.”

"What about your mother?..." He was forced to ask.“My mother was a very happy woman… What's more, now that I remember she had a lot of interest in me dancing with you that night. I'm sure she would have liked very much to have met you. What about your mother?”

He stirred, slightly uncomfortable with her question. He hadn’t had the opportunity to talk to her about all the things he had lived thanks to his parents, he had deliberately given her little information about it. Really, everything Bulma knew about them had heard from Tarble or Raditz.

"My mother... I guess she wasn't very happy with her marriage. She was severe…” It was hard for him to get the words out of his mouth, taking a breath when he thought he had something to say, but then he kept quiet and thought about something else he could share. “Let's say she was fond of having lovers,” he said with a cynical smile that tried to hide all the disdain from his childhood memories. “My father was never at home, neither was I... I had so many tutors that I spent the day training, studying. At night I used to hear her go out and the nights she stayed at home it was usually because Tarble had a fever and she stayed at his bedside until she fell asleep.”

"So, Tarble was her favorite?"

“I always suspected that she had fallen in love with someone else and that Tarble was the son of that man, for that reason she seemed to have a special attachment to him.

"Do you think your father insisted so much that you had an heir just because he had the same suspicion? That is, if you don’t comply with his will, everything would go to Tarble if he did it before you.”

"Maybe... In fact, it's quite likely. It's not that I really care, it's not something I can know for sure. Both died, we will never know the truth about it.”

"It's true," she said and let herself rest on his arm, resting lightly on him. “That doesn’t matter anymore.”

At the end of their walk Bulma seemed reinvigorated, as if that simple action had completed her day. Vegeta helped her into the carriage once more. In the front seat, the coachman was accompanied by her silent escort.

Bulma looked at the curious faces that perched on them on the way back to the mansion and was filled with pride. Pleased by everything she had achieved so far. Vegeta looked at her sideways from time to time, her unperturbed smile was impossible to ignore. Would it be so difficult to please those whims from time to time if they really made her so happy?

On the way she asked him to go down to the residence for a moment to have a cup of tea before returning to his mansion. Vegeta said no more but his silence only served Bulma as an affirmation. Once around the small living room table, Bulma waited for their cups to be served and closed the doors before asking Tarble's employees for some privacy. However, Vegeta was surprised to see Nathalie's presence still accompanying them. Tights had a special glow in her gaze, directly aimed at him. Broly had stood behind the door that separated the room with the dining room and the rest of the residence.

“What is this all about?” He questioned when he finally felt all their eyes falling on him. He was about to take a sip of his cup of tea while Bulma remained on the door with her lips pressed together. The trail of unwavering happiness that surrounded them had finally dissipated.

"Vegeta, you have to promise me you're not going to get mad." The request itself had already bothered him, nothing good could come after that. He set his cup down on the table without trying a sip and frowned. He was totally frustrated.

“What did you do now? Can't I leave you alone for a couple of hours?”

“I did nothing! Well... Not exactly...”

Tights took her cup from the table and placed the small porcelain plate on her lap.

"I'm going to do you the favor of finishing this fast. We already know everything about the heritage and the Gentlemen's Club.”

Vegeta looked at the impassive gesture of the blond girl who was sitting not far from him.

“We want to accompany you when you place your bet on the Club.”

“What?” He asked, standing up. “Don't even think about it, especially you,” he told Nathalie suspiciously.

"I swear I tried to dissuade them! But they are stubborn like mules.”

"You have to consider how suspicious it would be for you to suddenly appear to spend all your money there. You have to have a good reason to behave so out of your mind, you have to have an reason behind, otherwise it would be almost unlikely for you to do it.”

Tights spoke from her author's view of her idea of getting into the psyche of fictional people to write their stories and motivations.

"It's my money and I can do with it as I please. That is my motivation.”

"Think about it, Count. You have shown yourself publicly with this boy... This... Raditz. What do you think others would think if they find you disbursing large sums of money so suddenly in this Club that this nobody founded from nothingness itself? Now that you are so suspiciously close to the date on which the county would be taken away... Possibly they would believe you had gone mad.”

He crossed his arms, that idea hadn’t been overlooked, but he was willing to ignore it if that made his fortune out of Nappa's reach.

"What does that have to do with you three?"

"Maybe it wouldn't be so strange if you show up celebrating your bachelor party with three companions."

"You have to consider it, Vegeta. No one would question that a man wanting to splurge some bills in his last days being single,” Bulma added.

"In that case I could go with any trio of my choice and it would be exactly the same."

"Any trio ?!" Bulma bellowed, approaching him with an obfuscated face. “Don't even think about it, Vegeta! You are not going to go around with a couple of woman to that Club, you are crazy if you think I will allow it.”

"And what kind of bachelor takes his own wife to her bachelor party?"

"No one will recognize Bulma if she wears a wig, I think what distinguishes her the most is the color of her hair. In addition, you cannot deny that a couple of woman wouldn’t take care of your back as we could do. If what concerns you is our safety, you have a mastodon on the other side of the door that would make anyone think twice before meddling in our affairs.”

"This plan of yours has gone too far Bulma, you're making me consider abandoning the idea."

"And leave a fruitful county for Nappa?" Bulma asked, crossing her arms. “Does that seem more reasonable than allowing us to accompany you? It would be a very convenient alibi, you have to admit it.”

"Besides, let's say you show up just to waste your fortune completely in one night. What if this Nappa finds out about it and argues that you lost his mind? It would be enough to request a professional opinion, if they determine that you are not sane you can say goodbye to the possibility of continuing to use the county. It will be removed in the blink of an eye. The crown wouldn’t allowed to have an insane count.”

"My judgment is not the one in question right now. What are you doing ventilating my affairs this way?” He questioned his fiance.

  
Tights rose from her seat and walked to the count, who faced Bulma's gaze in disbelief.

"Excuse me, Count. But my sister is still a minor, which means she is under my guardianship until she turns twenty-one.”

"What do you mean by that? Are you implying that if I don’t accept, you will cancel the engagement?”

"Don't get me wrong, Count. From an early age I left home to pursue my own aspirations, it would be hypocritical of me to deny my young sister the opportunity to follow her own dreams. As far as I am concerned, the only thing I can do in my position is to make sure that Bulma will be well after all this. We cannot afford to expose you, and consequently Bulma.”

“We? I haven’t accepted any kind of society between us.”

"In fact, you did. When you proposed to my sister.” Frustrated, Vegeta looked away from her. "Do not take this as an altercation. I’m sure that everyone here doesn’t want nothing but your plans to be successful. Consider the worst possibilities that will come from this plan. If you do, I’m sure you’ll understand that my idea will only benefit you if it occurs to someone to question you.”

Vegeta couldn’t deal with that calmer and more convincing version Bulma herself, added to the scandalous and impulsive of his own fiancee. He hated it, he felt exposed. However, there was no way he could refute her logic convincingly. He knew the magnitudes of the problem in what he would get from taking another woman to the gentlemen's club and he wasn't sure if he could stay in his right mind if he had another argument with Bulma and more heated.

"Damn women," he muttered suddenly and sat down again.

The atmosphere became calmer. Tights returned to the cup of tea she had neglected and Bulma stood idly by the Count. Vegeta raised an eyebrow and looked at her severely.

"When this is over, you and I will have a private conversation."

"I suggest we wait a few days to do it, it will give us time for the engagement to be made public to give more credibility to your bachelor party."

"I still haven't accepted."

"Would it be so bad to do it? You didn't seem to have a problem with Bulma's initial plan, I just propose to polish it a little.”

"The idea that my wife is walking through a club like that doesn't seem convincing to me. If I really wanted to carry out this… this plan, I don't see the need to take it to her too. I could leave her here with Broly blocking her bedroom door and the matter would be over.”

"Lock me in my room? You are insane?”

"You and your sister are the only ones insane here!"

"You know Bulma would escape through the window, even if she broke a leg in the attempt," Nathalie muttered, who had so far remained absent from the meeting.

"I'll close the windows with nails if necessary."

"I don't think it's necessary to get to such an extreme. As I said, Bulma would be not only in our company, but also Broly's and our own. No one would dare to put a hand on her.”

"Besides..." Nathalie said shyly. “The women in those clubs only get involved with the gentlemen they want, the men don't force themselves on them, there would be no real danger of being your accompanions.”

"I know perfectly well how those clubs work, I don't need you to explain it to me."

"I thought you said you didn't frequent it."

“The fact that I don't frequent it doesn't mean I don't know how it works.”

"Then there will be no problem, no one would dare to touch my sister if she caught someone's attention. We’ll make a couple of bets, we’ll drink a little to give a festive appearance and we’ll leave when we have wasted everything. I don't think that, if Bulma were locked in your room you would be totally calm carrying out the plan without knowing what she would be up to.”

Tights seemed victorious and Vegeta knew he had lost that little battle. Defeated, he rose to Tarble’s modest bar and poured himself a drink.

“Very well. If we are going to do this, we’ll do it perfectly. If you three are going to be there you will do exactly what I tell you when I tell you, and I don't want to hear any reply.”

“It's a deal," Tights replied. “Do you see, brother-in-law? It wasn't that complicated.”

* * *

Several days had passed since that meeting, which had lasted for several hours, a few cups of coffee and a couple of wiskis for the count. The days followed with a couple of public appointments to feed the lively languages of the most stretched women of high society. It hadn't been so bad, something theatrical. However, Vegeta continued to carry with him some indignation at Bulma's indiscretion in revealing his intimacies. But he was thinking about having that conversation once all that ominous idea finally culminated. He would eventually have a chance.

The night was over the city, covering it with a dark wake. The orange lights of the inhospitable streets of the undergrounds illuminated their way to The Black Widow. Only a couple of people were walking through the streets as deserted as dangerous, wandering in a hurry aware of their vulnerability. Vegeta looked at the two ladies in front of him, inside the carriage. Tights had taken charge of personifying the three od them on the role they would play that night. All so made up that they didn't even look like themselves, but without neglecting the elegant air they intended.

Tights was wearing a yellow dress and Nathalie a lavender one. Bulma, next to him, was wearing a terribly tight red dress with a scandalous neckline.

"Couldn't you wear something more discreet?" He whispered when he met her exposed attributes again.

"I thought the idea was not to be discreet."

He crossed his arms and tried to ignore her appearance. She wore a wig the same color as her dress, in a curly hairstyle under which she had hidden the turquoise of her hair. Upon arriving at the Black Widow, the carriage stopped and Vegeta took advantage of the last moment they would have alone to say a few words.

"Don't do anything stupid."

Vegeta and his companions abandoned the carriage and the Count extended to the doorman the invitations he had printed for himself. The doorman wasn’t the same one who had received Nathalie and Bulma the previous time, they would probably have fired him after the scandal she had made. He looked at the ladies, Vegeta and Broly and then stepped aside to allow them to entry. Once inside, Vegeta circled his arm possessively around Bulma's waist and she smiled. Tight approached him and whispered in his ear.

"It's your bachelor party, brother-in-law. You should look more lively.”

He wasn’t as happy to fake a smile, but he had to keep his facade and, as planned, they sat at a circular table in the first room of the Club. Vegeta asked for a bottle of champagne, Tights had insisted that it was the most appropriate for a celebration.

"Vegeta, smile a little, it looks like you just came out of a wake," Bulma said through clenched teeth, squeezing an exaggerated smile.

When his glasses were filled with the bubbly champagne, Tights raised her glass in the air with the intention of making a toast.

"For a wonderful night!" She said loudly, catching the attention of those present.

Vegeta raised his glass participating in that dramatic staging, but his countenance remained as stubborn as it was when he entered. Broly seemed slightly confused by the work he had been entrusted with, but he took his glass and raised it slightly as instructed before leaving. Suddenly, Bulma sat on Vegeta’s lap and he saw close-up the white skin of her breasts, delicately surrounded by the black lace of her dress.

"You can't be angry all night," she purred, trying to cheer him up and finally a slight smile twisted on his face.

"My wife is a headache," he replied, toasting with her.

"I'm sure she’ll take care of you when you're married..."

"Poor woman, she has no idea what awaits her."

"You two, leave something for later," Tights laughed as she poured her second drink and asked the bar tender for a second bottle.

"The idea isn’t to be intoxicated," Nathalie whispered, drinking discreetly as she watched the men laughing at the adjoining tables.

"The idea is to celebrate, Nathalie. Besides, I have high tolerance for alcohol and something tells me that you do too. She, on the other hand…” she added referring to Bulma, “perhaps it would be a good idea to avoid mixing liquors, I doubt she has a stomach for that.”

Nathalie took out a cigarette from the small bag that Bulma had bought her and took out a couple of cigarettes, more expensive than the ones she had on her last time. She extended one to Bulma who quickly turned on and brought it to her mouth.

A gentleman recognized him quickly and approached his table. Bulma felt the Countl's hand shake firmly on her, but the man didn’t seem to have bad intentions. He walked to him with his face filled with alcohol and put a hand on his shoulder as if they were great comrades.

“Count! Years without seeing you,” he said with joy. “I found out about your engagement, let me congratulate you. It was time! I see you’re celebrating, I've never seen you here.”

“I thought it was the perfect occasion to get to know the club." He smiled wickedly, trying to enter the role he played.

"You have to come with us to the betting room! I see that you are in very good company, we could recreate our eyes too, there are too many men there. I was waiting for a friend; I don't think he takes long to arrive. Please join us, we have to celebrate that engagement!”

"In fact, those were my intentions, I booked tonight to celebrate my bachelorette party."

"Ah... The wonders of being married diminish when you arrive at the altar. I have been married for four years, two divorces, married women are a nightmare.”

"I don't doubt it," he replied and felt Bulma kick him under the table. “I am not even married and I can hardly deal with my fiancee.”

"Fortunately, divorces are becoming less complicated, Count. And you still have no children,” he laughed outrageously. “Wait and see, when your wife experiences motherhood we will probably see you here more often.”

“I'll keep it in mind.”

"Well, but let's not waste time anymore. Come on, I'm sure it’ll be your lucky night. Although, seeing you surrounded by such beautiful ladies I think you have already come with luck to the Club.”

Quickly, that man took them to the back of the Club. They passed through the same double-leaf door where they had been caught, but Bulma was especially careful not to observe the deck of any of those present. Tights seemed amazed by what she saw, excited by the idea of capturing all that in her next novel. She had been so genuinely interested in seeing it for herself that she had worked hard to convince Vegeta to take them with him. Nathalie, already more infected with Tights' genuine emotion, felt more relaxed. Both clung to the firm arms of Bulma's escort and walked beside them with laughter and festive comments. At the same time trying to provoke a smile to the immutable boy, without much success.

"Let's make the count feel welcome!" Said the gentleman, introducing him to a large group that played at a table. “It's his bachelor party!” He bellowed hugging him.

The gentlemen smiled at him, congratulating him in shouts, as if the celebration had spread throughout the room. Between feverish laughter they pushed him to his first bet and, without hesitation, a third party he didn't even know came to put a pair of dice on his hand.

"Put your bet!" Shouted one from the other side.

Vegeta looked up and saw the congested faces of alcohol surrounding him in a great celebration. He turned a second to Bulma and she smiled at him with complicity. She approached to the table and took a bunch of chips while those present marveled at the prying look of her cleavage. The exalted cheers were heard when she placed her bet on the cloth. The exorbitant bet infected everyone with emotion.

Vegeta lightly shook the dice on his palm, smiled evilly at his fiancee and brought his clenched fist to her. Bulma gently took the place where the dice were hidden and blew on him, in a gesture of good luck. Vegeta threw the dice on the table in the firing line and the petrified room was wrapped in a sepulchral silence.

"Eleven," the dealer finally said, and the exalted presents raised their glasses in a shout of joy.

Vegeta had won.

"Looks like you're going to give me good luck tonight," he whispered. The red dice returned to his hands, he had to pass the second round. "Double my bet," he told the dealer who diligently placed the chips before Bulma could re-create a show with her attributes.

This time, instead, Vegeta left the red dice on Bulma's hands. She positioned herself on the edge of the table and threw them.

The dice rolled on the cloth and after a couple of rolls they finally fell before the eyes of the spectators.

"Eight," said the dealer, he had won once more.

When the dice had returned to Vegeta, he had been slightly infected with the thrill of winning. He understood perfectly how Raditz had managed to amass large amounts of money there. After winning two consecutive shots, it was natural for a drunken man to feel inclined to increase that bet. Then he did it.

"Double it one more time." Before throwing away, he looked at the table and his sumptuous bet being accommodated to him. He threw the dice on the table and saw them roll for the third time.

"Two," said the dealer.Vegeta had bet on seven. He had finally lost.He heard the disappointed voices of the group and smiled, all that money would be going directly to The Black Widow and, consequently, to him. But none there would know the happiness that caused him to know that this waste was only to diminish the inheritance that Nappa would receive in a few months.

"Gentlemen..." he said, capturing their attention. “The night is young and we still have a lot to celebrate. Moreover, a round for all present.”

After hearing his words, the group of feverish men raised their arms in the air, the essence of celebration wasn’t lost. A few approached to shake his hand and congratulate him personally for his engagement. It seemed that its façade was yielding the desired fruit and that the plan was going well.Vegeta then went to roulette. Tights had a flushed face and a glass of white wine on her right hand, Nathalie had begun to chat animatedly with a group of gentlemen who didn’t waste time on flattering her silhouette and her beautiful smile. Broly had a lady by his side, who insistently pretended to get his attention, with less success than Tights and Nathalie had had in giving taking a smile out of him.

Bulma remained next to the count, watching his game and drinking calmly from her glass without escaping his fiance's protective gaze. Vegeta wasted money without stopping, filled his glass of the most expensive Scottish vodka that the Black Widow had to offer. Without realizing it, he was really beginning to enjoy that night as if that had been his true goal. Fever of liquor and the whispers that Bulma offered to his ear with her warm breath. Encouraging him to continue betting until the last coin, laughing at the bad jokes of the men around them.

"I would love to invite a drink to one of the girls who accompany you, if it doesn't bother you, Count. They are too many for one man,” said a slender gentleman who knew was a marquis who was passing through the city. He had mentioned it to him while he was talking watching him gamble animatedly.

"The girls can decide for themselves," Vegeta replied and then turned to Bulma. “But this one will be my last snack of the night.”

"He already sounds like a married man!"

"Just don't tell my wife." He said and the group exploded in laughter, but Vegeta felt Bulma hit him in the ribs. “What’s your problem?” He muttered under his breath.

"Now everyone is going to believe you're cheating on me," she replied in the same way.

"But it’s with you that I’m cheating on you."

"They don't know that!"

“This was your idea in the first place, now smile and choose a number to bet.”

The night progressed and Vegeta's bank account decreased second by second. But the lively atmosphere didn’t stop. Probably because everyone, that night, was taking in alcohol a part of the count's inheritance. They wasted no time in flattering him, admiring his game and his companions.

The man who had received him had just returned to the game room accompanied by the person who he had been waiting for a few hours.

“You gotta see this! It is the best night in Black Widow in years. You are missing all the fun.”

Vegeta threw his dice one more time and the table burst with joy when they saw him win, but then he felt Bulma shiver under his arm and crouch against his chest, hiding her face.

"Vegeta!" she tried to whisper, though her tone was scandalized. “It's your cousin, he just entered.”

The earl turned and watched his astonished gaze. Suddenly he wanted to walk to him and beat him up like he couldn't do, that time, when he broke into his mansion. But Bulma kept him ease after feeling his intentions.

"We're not here for that," she said in a severe tone.

Nappa looked at the chips on the table and his face change to surprise.

"How long will it take him to realize what we are really doing?" Vegeta questioned, intrigued by the idea of watching him squirm when he notices the amount of money Vegeta was losing.

"I don't know, but if he's here we have to do this fast. We can’t afford him to realize who I really am.”

"I want to triple my bet," Vegeta snapped and the dealer took care of placing the chips on the table again. “No, quadruple it.” He heard Nappa drown with the gin that had just been served to him, looking away from the commotion that formed around the count.

"The house wins," said the dealer and withdrew the bets from the cloth with a wooden rake.

He didn’t waste his time. As Bulma had told him, the plans had now changed with Nappa's presence in the Club. He had to hurry to spend as much money as possible and leave without him noticing anything. Bulma had placed a fan over her face to hide her features, the only thing that could be seen between her wine-colored bangs and her fan were her celestial eyes. She excused herself, alluding to the fact that alcohol was making her feel hot.

A new bet lay on the table, so juicy that Nappa watched incredulously. He seemed to have the desire to stand up and stop him, but he sat at his table, drinking bitterly. He looked at the huge man who was standing just behind Vegeta's back and controlled his exasperation knowing that it wouldn’t do him any good to get involved in a riot. When Vegeta lost for the third time, he could not control himself. They had already told him that the count was celebrating his recent engagement and that he had squandered good wads of bills to invite everyone present the finest wines of the establishment. He couldn’t bear to see how that group drank the money he considered his.

"Vegeta!" He shouted exacerbated, but he felt suddenly uncomfortable when everyone present turned to look at him. “D-don't you think it's been enough?”

The earl turned to his cousin and enjoyed his decomposed appearance, irritated to see him deliberately spend his inheritance.

"What's up, Nappa? I thought you loved betting.”

"Not when you're spending all my money!"

"I belive that this money will continue to be mine for a few more months, you can play with the crumbs when I'm done," he replied, tilting a smile.

Nappa clenched his fist on his glass and it tumbler until it burst into his palm. Without warning, he stood up with the clear intention of facing him. Vegeta pushed Bulma to get behind him, but before he could approach him, a gentleman  stepped in and stopped him.

Raditz watched everything from the first floor, behind the black windows of a room that overlooked the entire club. He had made sure he had a couple of security employees ready in case any disturbance began. No one could ruin that night. When Nappa entered, he ordered the largest of his staff to keep him in sight in case he had any strange ideas. And as expected, Nappa exploded. Dragged to the outskirts of the Club in an instant and with the entrance permanently banned.

“You are a shameless man!” He shouted before losing sight of him.

When the screams stopped and the uncomfortable gentleman looked back at the count, he felt the need to shake off the awkward air he had left.

"I don't plan to remarry after this, so if you let me, I'd like to end the night on a better note."

A third stood beside him and squeezed his shoulder in camaraderie.

"Let's make this night unforgettable!" He shouted, shaking his glass in front of the rest, who soon recovered their spirits.

Bulma breathed calmly again when she saw how they took him and the night could continue in the best way. By five in the morning, Vegeta put his last bet on the table. As planned, Vegeta had lost everything. The first stage of the plan was complete, now the biggest waste of money awaited them. The wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have already written and published chapter 33, so I wanted to hurry up with the translation so as not to be far behind. I hope to reach 33 in a short time. I hope you liked it! Thank you for reading and leaving a comment, a big hug for everyone. <3


	30. Chapter XXX

* * *

** IN YOUR HANDS **

* * *

 

Chapter

-XXX-

* * *

 

Although he was terribly tempted to seduce her until she agreed to return to the mansion with the pure intention of breaking her stupid promise of celibacy, he gave up after noticing the turbulent blush of her cheeks. Her easy smile and the way she laughed almost groggy were only indications that Bulma was drunk.

Relaxed after Nappa had been thrown out of the premises by the back door and convinced that her plan had been a success, she committed the indiscretion of tasting a glass of gin that ended up burning her throat like a fiery flare. As Tights had mentioned, Bulma had no tolerance for mixing liquors.

However, she seemed to have the same intentions as the Count. The soft touch of her digits on his neck had bristled his skin. She’d approached him so boldly to the point of stroking his cheek with the tip of her nose as he made his last bets and hinted at something so indecent in his ear that it made him blush. He didn't know if he had been so hot for the same alcohol he was drinking, for Bulma's little modesty or for how excited he was by the idea she’d planted in his disturbed mind. Despite this, he completely gave up on those indecent ideas.

When the night was over, they went outside and found the sky tinged with orange watercolors. It was just dawn.

Bulma seemed totally determined to make love to him anywhere and had even suggested slipping into the back rooms where Nathalie got lost. But Vegeta took her by the waist and carried her directly to his carriage before regretting it.

Tights said goodbye to his most recent fans and Nathalie accommodated her messy new dress, trying to look as dignified as possible in that humiliating stretch to the carriage. By the time they arrived at Tarble's residence, Tights had to push her drunken sister to release her fiancé. But fortunately, it didn't take long for her to fall asleep upon arriving. Still wearing her wig, although with a few turquoise strands sliding under it.

The next day she woke up with a big headache and the impeccable makeup that she wore the night before scattered all over her face. However, that didn’t prevent her from getting ready to have another date with the Count to take a carriage ride, with her face slightly emaciated and a strange feeling in her stomach. She was still willing to feed rumors every time she had the opportunity. It was that afternoon, during that date, that they decided to meet with Raditz to see the result of the night, behind closed doors at Tarble's residence. Tights had insisted that it would be dangerous for him to be linked to Vegeta at that time and that the meeting couldn’t take place in his mansion for obvious reasons, so it took place late at night, when there were no curious eyes snooping around Street. Bulma's sister had written so many police novels that the idea of getting involved in that trick was incredibly exciting.

"Here's everything," Raditz said, leaving a bag full of bills on the oak table in the living room.

"No one has suspected anything?" Asked Vegeta, arms crossed in the corner of the room.

"They were too drunk to suspect anything."

"My idea of getting them intoxicated wasn’t so bad after all," Tights added proudly.

Bulma opened the bag and began counting the money, assembling stacks and stacks of bills on the table. Nathalie had never seen so much money collected in one place in her entire life.

"This will help rebuild the property your grandfather left you," Bulma said.

Vegeta took a bunch of bills and handed them to Raditz.

"Your part," he said. “And an extra to bribe the Treasury so that they don’t put their noses in the investment that I’ll make in that property.”

Raditz smiled, put the bills in his hand and with his thumb he shuffled them like a deck of cards. Vegeta hadn’t been wrong in saying that he would put his teeth on anything that left him money.

"So, are you willing to invest in my project?" Asked Bulma, leaving for a moment the task of counting bills.

"I've been saving to buy a house for my mother, if Vegeta says this will be a success, I will. But it better be, otherwise you will be in trouble.”

“It will be. Plus, you would be returning the favor to Vegeta of having financed the Club. In any case, if you are not so sure that it’ll be a good business we can return your investment with a little interest as soon as we see the first earnings.”Vegeta smiled, unable to control the satisfaction generated by seeing Bulma shut Raditz's mouth.

"Now is when you have to be more careful," Tights said. “If this man, Nappa, is really responsible for the count's accident, he is right to be worried. Now he knows firsthand that you are engaged and that you have begun to make excessive use of his money, well, the money that he believes belongs to him. And I don't say it just for Bulma's safety, are you armed, Count?”

“I am.”

Bulma felt her skin freeze at his blunt response. The truth is that he had been armed a long time ago, after the incident on his last trip and had almost even made use of a weapon without her knowing it. That time, when he thought he would find her in a brothel.

"I should recommend your brother to do the same," the blonde one said, catching the couple's attention. “If they have a child they would be next in the line of succession of the title.”"Tarble made it clear that he won't have an heir, not for now."

"I don't think Nappa is aware, Vegeta. Tights is right,” Bulma replied.Vegeta went silent and recognized that, obviously, Tarble and Gure were in as much danger as he and Bulma. So, even if he disliked the idea, he would have to talk to his brother when he returned from his honeymoon. The idea was uncomfortable, he hadn’t said goodbye to him on the best terms. They had never really been, but that shouldn't be an impediment for them to have that conversation.

"Well, in this case Gure's health would keep her inside the residence, at least for now. She will be safe whenever she is here,” Bulma added.

After counting the bundles of money, Bulma put it back into the bag in which they had been brought. Vegeta carried it on his carriage covered by the convenient darkness that bathed the entire city and, without wasting time, the next day he went to the residence that they would restore in the company of Bulma and her entourage of chaperones. Jaco had finally joined the rest and, as he had done the previous days, remained silent and almost oblivious to everything he observed. Although he had barely heard a couple of words, Vegeta distrusted him as he had no idea what was going on in his mind. Although Tights had ensured that he was trustworthy, Vegeta avoided certain comments that evidenced the money laundering they had put in to finance the reconstruction of the property. And he had taken an opportunity to make Bulma promise that she wouldn’t include him in that trick they had planned.

The property wasn’t so far from Vegeta’s mansion, a little more outside the city and surrounded by vast, almost desert lands. The count had explained to Bulma that there used to be large crops and that, for many years, the property was far from the urban axis. Over the years and with the extension of the city, it was impossible for his grandfather to continue working that land as he had done for decades. Fortunately, he had already amassed a great fortune and the deterioration of the property didn’t cause him any commotion. However, he knew that this property was worth a fortune and that its large hectares could be worth something to his grandson, eventually.The residence wasn’t so large and there was much of it that could be rescued in a reconstruction. It would be necessary to change the windows. corroded by the years and the humidity, the wooden doors were rotten and the stairs too. Going up to the first floor had been impossible, some stairs were broken and many absent. But the structure in general seemed firm.

"It's a pity it got in this state," Bulma said, touring the dusty kitchen, taking advantage of being alone for a moment.

"I never knew what to do with it. My mansion seemed more convenient at the time and it would only cost me more to live here.”

“Perhaps it was the best thing you could do, by not investing in it you didn’t generate any relationship between your grandfather's inheritance and your father’s.”

“Tomorrow I’ll bring an architect, we have to start as soon as possible so that this is finished before the deadline is met. Or we’ll stay in the streets.”

"We must also patent my invention as soon as possible."

"I'll make an appointment this week to get that off us. I can rent somewhere to start manufacturing everything, I can spend the inheritance money while the contract ends at the same time as the clause.”

"We need investors, we only have Raditz's money."

"I'll call a meeting for next week, don't worry about that."

It seemed impossible not to do so when the deadline of the will was so close, but she made an effort to trust him and that, eventually, everything would go according to plan.Vegeta and Bulma continued touring what would soon be their new home. The anticipation generated by the little time left made them nervous. Although Vegeta had an impenetrable expression, he feared he couldn’t carry everything in their hands in such a short time. As Bulma had said, it was a fortune that her older sister decided to take action on the matter and take care of the minors at the wedding. With a convenient blank checkbook, Tights toured the entire city looking for invitations, wedding cakes, floral arrangements, a band, pianist, waiters and a chef, among many other details. For her, the experience was invaluable since, having moved away from the social scene, she had lost countless events that would have served herto make her stories more picturesque.

A few days later, Vegeta and Bulma had appeared before their lawyer to inform them how to carry out the patenting of her invention. He had been the legal representative of the family for three generations, so he was an extremely correct gentleman and quite old. His son accompanied him in that meeting, since, taking advantage of the occasion, Mr. Lockhart informed them that in a short time he would be retiring from the profession and everything would be left to his son.He seemed shocked to hear Vegeta's words and couldn’t help laughing at the thought that it was all a joke. But the sharp expressions of both made him realize that he wasn’t joking. They really wanted Bulma to patent an invention.He cleared his throat on the other side of his desk as he realized that it was no joke. His son remained by his side, looking astonished and waiting to hear more about that alleged invention.

“Well… I know that there’s little time left before your father's will clause is met. I myself wrote the will... But, a patent wouldn’t be a property of inheritance. It is non-transferable, I don’t think you need to involve your fiancée if your intention is to safeguard your intellectual property.”

"You are wrong, it wasn’t my invention. She created it herself, and if you doubt it, I don't think it would be hard for her to explain you exactly how it works.”

"If I may, it wouldn’t be the first invention created by a woman. Do you know that the fork was created by a woman? The circular closure for cutting, the loom safety device, there are even historians who claim that beer is an invention created by women in the Mesopotamia.”

"I'm familiar with Knight's trial," he replied embarrassed by her answer. “Count, I would advise you to control your fiancee's temper. It is not proper to speak this way towards a gentleman.”

"I fear that my fiancee has the freedom to speak as she pleases. You insulted her by underestimating her intelligence. We haven’t come here to receive  marriage advice, you should rather give us the damn patent forms and keep your comments for someone who’s interested in listening to them. Unfortunately, we are somewhat short of time to waste it on your advice.”

"Father, please... Times are changing. As Miss Briefs says, this would undoubtedly not be the first case. Although they are exceptional, I think it would be amazing indeed.”

His father was obfuscated, the education of his generation was still rooted in his mind. He saw his son's countenance, anxious for the exceptional case in his hands. Slightly indignant, the lawyer turned to a sideboard and reviewed a bibliography, adjusting his glasses to read the headline carefully. After searching for a few minutes, he pulled out a couple of sheets and handed them to the Count.

“That's the request, now we’ll have to detail the operation of your invention and its application in a brief that we’ll attach to it. There is a tax to be paid for the application. After thirty days the petition will be analyzed and if approved, the public announcement will be made in the commercial gazette.”

"Why the ad?" Asked Bulma. “In the event that another person claims to have created it, they will have a deadline to present themselves with evidence to support their claim. Once this period has elapsed, they will give you a date for an inspector to visit you and confirm that the invention complies with what has already been stipulated.”

"Sounds like a long process..." Bulma commented. “Is there any way to advance it?”

“It will be impossible, they are the administrative times stipulated by law.”

"I have some acquaintances who may do us the favor," said his son, and then hesitated to see his father's wrinkled brow. “Dad... It's the least we can do...”

He sighed defeated and after deliberation, he nodded. The times were indeed changing so slowly that he had barely noticed it, in front of a lady who presented herself with the irreverence of a male.

"When a woman pretends to have a title while single, it will be when the world is upside down," he said, imagining that terrible scenario. “Okay, take care of it, Adam. From now on you will carry out everything concerning the count and Miss Briefs.”

Immediately the boy approached them and took a seat. Proceeding to spend the rest of the afternoon taking notes to assemble the writing on the operation of Bulma's invention. It sounded so revolutionary that he even hesitated for a moment, thinking if it was real or not, but upon hearing the inspiration behind the engine he understood perfectly how she had been able to create it. Without formal education about it and with only a privileged mind at her disposal.

"This will delay the meeting we’ll have with some investors," Vegeta said.

"Oh, I would recommend you wait until you have the patent," Adam replied, leaving his task of drafting Bulma's form for a moment. “It would be terrible if someone copied her work and presented it as their own. As the lady said, it was the case of the loom device. A partner of Mrs. Knight sued her on the grounds that the invention was his and that a woman could never create something so complicated...”

“How long will it take?” Asked Bulma. Her countenance had been noticeably discouraged. “We plan to get married in a short time... We will be out of the city in a short time.”

“I’ll do everything in my power so that we have the edict in a short time, perhaps it would be best if you didn’t go very far so you’ll be aware of the progress.”

Vegeta and Bulma shared a look and nodded. Sacrificing their honeymoon wasn’t such a wild thing if they could get the patent faster. It seemed to be a minor sacrifice after everything that had happened so far.

It had been a couple of hours before they finally finished and Vegeta handed him a check to pay the legal fees of the application. When they left the office, they didn’t find their companions, who probably would have left to continue with the wedding preparations impatiently, bored of waiting hours inside the carriage. They were sure that they couldn’t have gone very far since their lawyer's office was positioned in one of the busiest blocks in the center and the carriage was still outside waiting for them next to Broly's immovable figure.

Taking advantage of the ephemeral moment in which they would be alone, Vegeta searched his pocket and took out a black box engraved finely in golden details. She was distracted, looking back and forth on the street hoping to meet her sister's long blonde hair. When she finally turned to the Count she could clearly see the box on the palm of his hand extended without much ceremony.

“Is that…?”

He nodded with a disinterested air and watched the gesture she made as she removed the small box from his hands. She opened it slowly feeling the buzz of her heart rumbling beneath her skin. Bulma smiled at the sight of the delicate engagement ring he had given her. He looked at the shy smile she drew on her lips when she saw the graceful ring.

"Thank you," she said softly.

It was probably not the way Bulma would have wished her entire life to receive her engagement ring, in the middle of the street with a gesture of disinterest. But she couldn't ask for more from him, maybe she had already asked for too much. Blushed with bliss, she turned to the count and handed him the box claiming one last gesture from him and extended her hand to him. Vegeta immediately understood her intentions and his cheeks became almost as hot as hers. Suddenly he felt his hands clumsy and, a little awkward, cleared his throat and took the small ring. He took her pale hand and placed the ring on her finger. Tights had done well to inform him of her size. It fitted perfect.

A shout of excitement poked across the street. Tights had dropped her purchases on the floor. Jaco was smiling just amused by the scene along with Nathalie, having caught them on the spot. They immediately crossed the street and the women demanded to see the ring immediately, scandalized by the barely romantic gesture of the Count. That alliance was nothing more than the irrefutable proof that they were really engaged.

Vegeta turned his face with his cheeks visibly burning. He would never have thought that he would be wrapped up in a courthship in broad daylight.

* * *

By the time the crown letter had finally arrived, the group that had accompanied him during the last week waited anxiously next to him in the office. Impatient to know the answer to continue with the rest of the preparations.The letter had the royal seal printed on red sealing wax, unmistakable among the rest of the Count's correspondence. Vegeta broke the seal and suddenly felt the hands of Bulma and Tights pulling him by the shoulders to see for themselves what was written there. He noticed behind them, two curious looks of Nathalie and Jaco, who had spent all his time in the mansion since he had arrived, like a silent piece of furniture.After a ceremonial introduction detailing the titles they would receive given the special circumstances of his fiancee that those present skipped conveniently, they read what they had most awaited so far.

_"The Crown has no objection to the immediate nuptials of Vegeta Ouji and Bulma Briefs."_

Bulma and her sister shouted in unison and wrapped the Count in an embarrassing hug. Vegeta could barely hold the letter in his hands under the improper double hug he was being subjected to, his face turned completely red and he clenched his teeth, his back muscles contracted. He had never been the center of such an effusive gesture. He heard Nathalie's laughter behind him and, when they finally released him, he turned to observe the joyful celebration of the rest. For a moment he wondered if that was what he could expect for the rest of his life, but he didn’t voiced his thoughts and reserved himself to observe them almost obliviously.

"We can't waste time!" The blonde bellowed and approached her brother-in-law again, who sat in front of the desk. “Quick Vegeta. You have to write the request to the Church. Hurry up and I'll take it, I'm not moving from there until they give me a date!”

Bulma smiled at the sight of her fiance surrounded by curious looks, so exalted that he seemed about to bark at them to move away and stop violating his personal space. But, both her sister and her, weren’t afraid of his temper.

At that moment, when the entire wedding process seemed to be on track, she wondered about her project and how long it would take to be able to patent it. She hadn’t seen it for a while, since before Tarble’s wedding, and she wondered if all the pieces would be properly oiled to work when she had to perform the demonstration before an inspector.

She left the office and walked to the hall where her marriage would soon be celebrated. The carriage had been moved to the garage along with the rest and found it covered with a white cloth, waiting for its moment to shine. She raised her hand with the intention of removing the cloth, but a voice stopped her.

"Nice ring...”

His distressed tone was familiar, she knew perfectly who the voice belonged to and she gave up on revealing her invention. She froze for a second in which their last conversation came to her mind, it hadn't been pleasant. Turning on her steps she faced him. He wiped his hands with a rag, his gaze submerged on the floor with an almost regretful look. Shyly, he looked up and met her glacier gaze. She didn't seem happy to see him. Bulma crossed her arms, waiting for what he would have to say.

"I’m very sorry for what I told you the other day..." he began, approaching slowly. “I... I shouldn't have behaved like that, I was very disrespectful to you...”

"You were," Bulma said. “How dare you imply that I would marry him for money? I’m not that kind of woman.”

“I know!” He hurried forward one step. “I know…” His sad look returned to the ground, trying to find the courage to continue.   
“It's just that... Bulma...”

"Is that just what, Yamcha?" she asked furiously.He smiled, his gesture sad and humble. He looked into her eyes again, but she found something different in him, a familiar feeling."

Bulma... I can't allow you to marry him without having heard me first. From the first moment I saw you, sitting, crying in that fountain, all I could think about was making you feel better. In helping you...”

Without words, she watched him approach and take her hands gently in his.

"Seeing you here every day... seeing you smile... I discovered that it was what I liked to see the most. Not only has your ways captivated me... You are the smartest woman I have ever met in my life. Seeing you working late... I would like to see your dreams come true... I realized that, whatever happens, I couldn’t live without knowing that you are happy... I can’t give you a ring like the one you are wearing, nor give you the mansion that you deserve, even if I worked in the stables for a thousand years. But, despite that... I want you to give me the opportunity to make you happy in my own way...” She had blushed completely. Her eyes fixed on his sad look and his melancholic smile. "Bulma, would you marry me?"

"I..." she stammered.

Suddenly the grip on his hands ceased. Yamcha no longer held her. Dragged down from the collar of his shirt, he fell to the side and next to her was now Vegeta. His stare was fixed on the daring boy who courted his fiancee.

"I want you outside my mansion right now or you'll crawl out of it."

At first his expression was surprised, but noticing the wrathful presence of the Count next to Bulma, Yamcha smiled and clenched his fists ready to opt for his second option. When Vegeta was about to lean against him, Bulma stepped in and put her hands on the Count's chest trying to stop him. With the assurance that Yamcha wouldn’t come out of that encounter alive.

"Move, woman!" The Count roared.

“Yamcha!” she shouted, turning on her shoulder to see him, struggling to contain Vegeta's stormy presence. “Go! Right now!”

"Is this the man you're going to marry?! This animal?”

Vegeta was quick to push her, but Bulma sank her nails into the sleeve of his shirt and clung to his right arm. Terrified, she tried to stop his stormy steps, but she knew that she would eventually lose that contest, as would Yamcha.

"Go away, Yamcha! Now!” she shouted once more.

He clenched his teeth, his fists trembled helpless.

"I will, but only because I fear what might happen to you if you intervene in this."

"Run damn coward!" The count bellowed and Yamcha gave him a look of contempt. When he finally came out the door, Vegeta's anger hadn’t disappeared. His body throbbed violently, wishing to pursue his journey and fulfill his promise. But Bulma was still clutching him trembling weakly, facing his anger.

“He's gone! Calm down Vegeta!”

"Calm down?" He said, taking her off.

"You didn't have to throw him that way!"

“Is this a joke? That jerk was making fun of me! And I'm supposed to take it easy?”

"He wasn't making fun of you!"

“That little idiot is my employee, I'm the one who feeds him! What the hell would you’ve done in my place if an employee had the nerve to do the same? I should have fired him a long time ago, he had nothing to do here. Or what? Was it that you were considering his proposal?”

“Of course not!”

"Then why did you doubt it so much?!"

"Doubt it?! You didn't even give me time to answer! Besides, I didn't want to hurt his feelings.”

"If you're so worried about his feelings, why don't you go after him!?"

"You are an idiot!"

Without hesitation, she turned and left the garage. She walked as fast as she could until she met Nathalie, who had apparently heard the screams. She took her by the wrist and dragged her to the exit. Soon, she got into the carriage with Broly walking behind her and asking the coachman to take them back to the residence. Incredulous, Vegeta walked to the window and watched her leave in a hurry. A not too distant movement caught his attention. Yamcha carried a modest suitcase and saw him for the last time through the windows before leaving aimlessly down the street.

“What happened? Everything was fine a minute ago!” Nathalie shuddered to see Bulma covering her face, hiding it in her hands. She didn't know if she was crying or mad as a beast. She thought to stroke her back with uncertainty, when she sat up quickly. With clenched hands and red face.

"I had to get out of there before I told him something terrible, he's an idiot!"

"You won't have canceled the wedding, right?"

“No… I don't think so, nothing was said about it. I can't believe how much of a cretin he can be!”

“What are you going to do?”

"I just want some time alone to calm down."

Once in the mansion Bulma detailed what happened to Nathalie, which had helped her calm her nerves a little. Sitting on the bed next to her, she smiled and took her hand.

"I hate to admit it, but I'm with him on this one. And no, before you jump to my neck, I don't think he speak to you in the best way possible. But you have to admit it... He is the Lord of that mansion, Yamcha was very out of place to make his proposal now, when you are engaged to him.”

"I know... But Yamcha doesn't know Vegeta like I do, he can never understand why I chose him. In his mind he is only trying to protect me from what he considers evil.”

"He took a risk in doing so, I don't think he's naive enough to think he could continue working there after his proposal. What if you had accepted? The Count wasn’t going to let either of you live under his roof. Yamcha knew what he was getting into and he did it anyway.”

"I think you're right..." she admitted slightly embarrassed.

She sighed in sorrow, Yamcha had behaved terribly towards her and now he had disrespected his Lord, she understood that it was unforgivable, but she couldn't help feeling worried about him and his whereabouts. After all, he was responsible for her entire history with Vegeta having started, he had returned her to the mansion after the terrible embarrassment at the dance and was extremely grateful to him. Despite that disrespect, her chest hurt when she imagined him alone in the street.

"I know you have affection for him, but he made his decision."

"I don't want to see Vegeta anyway, at least not for now."

"You will have to see him. I don't think he wants to see you at the altar, you have to go and offer him an apology.”

Annoyed, Bulma looked away. Her pride kept her there, away from him. For Vegeta, something very different was  happening. He was so completely sure that he was right, that he didn't even consider going after her. This time it was she who would have to look for him and apologize. Because, eventually she would, right?...

After several hours, Tights had returned to Tarble's residence with the happy news that request to the church had been accepted. Seeing her so ecstatic, Bulma didn’t have the courage to tell her about the fight she had in the afternoon and squeezed a smile. As far as she knew, none of them had canceled the wedding and had no choice but to continue with their hasty planning.

She told her that she had already asked for the invitations to the printing house and after giving them a juicy check for the inconvenience, they told her that they could send them first thing in the morning. Fortunately, Tights was so excited about what lay ahead that she had no chance to notice her sister's discomfort. She had asked her to go in search of her wedding dress and told her that Vegeta had already seen the tailor to make his suit as planned.

The wedding would be held within five days. And although Bulma had been waiting for time to pass quicker, she felt overwhelmed knowing the date so close. Vegeta hadn’t gone to see her for another date, perhaps he would be busy renovating his grandfather's residence, or perhaps he simply had no desire to see her considering the way she had left. She wasn’t sure.

Three days had passed since the incident and Tights had filled Tarble's residence with floral arrangements from which Bulma would have to choose which one would decorate the tables in the great hall. Bulma looked at the gardenias, the carnations and finally decided on the lilies. They were her mother's favorites and she smiled at the memory, as if she knew she would be present in some way. Her heart was pounding when she heard someone opening the door, believing that perhaps the Count had come for her despite everything. But she was surprised, he always knocked.

Broly was the first to stand in front of the door, perhaps with the same uncertainty. When the door opened, Tarble looked at the group gathered in his living room looking confused. Behind him, Gure carried a small bag while his coachman lowered their luggage from the carriage.

“Tarble!” Said Bulma, standing up. “Have you returned already from your honeymoon?!”

Bulma's escort relaxed, but her penetrating gaze did not escape Tarble, who entered her own residence with some reticence. Then he searched his pocket and took out the wedding invitation.

"I had to know if this was true," he told Bulma and looked uncomfortably at everyone present.

"You must be Vegeta's brother." Tights approached him. “And you must be his beautiful bride. Nice to meet you, if it wasn't for the letter you sent me, I wouldn't have been able to arrive in time for the wedding.”

A few presentations later and a quick explanation of their presence there, Tarble and Gure sat next to the rest between floral arrangements. Gure seemed especially excited about the idea that his political family was spreading.

"We have to organize a dinner tonight; we have to gather the whole family. It's the usual, isn't it?” Said the blonde.

"The circumstances of my wedding are not the most usual..." Bulma replied, afraid to meet her fiancé again after three days without knowing anything about him.

"That doesn't mean we shouldn't do it. If the count's parents and ours were here, they would have done it. The count will have no problem, right now I’ll send someone to the mansion to inform him of of Tarble and his wife’s arrival.”

Without waiting for an answer from the rest, she left the room. Bulma's stomach skipped a little, she felt anxious to see him again and it hurt her pride to have to admit she was wrong, as Nathalie had made her understand.

"Tarble," Bulma said, interrupting the festive mood. “You should know that Vegeta has regained his sight. You left before it happened...”

“Really? Wow…” He couldn't hide his genuine smile. “I don't know what to say... Actually, I'm very surprised by everything that has happened in such a short time... I was afraid that his blindness would be permanent.”

"Me too, he has been much better after that. It has only taken a little work to adapt to the light. But I already forced him to see a doctor and they told us that he would most likely recover completely in a short time.”

"I'm really glad to hear it... I mean, Vegeta is quite complicated and we haven't had the best relationship... But all I can wish for him is to be okay. I’m convinced that marrying you is the best decision he could have made. You have the character needed to deal with him…” he said and laughed.

Trying to change the course of the conversation, Bulma asked Gure about their interrupted honeymoon. After hearing her shy voice, commenting in detail on the beautiful inn in which they had stayed on the way to her father's property on the outskirts of the city, Bulma wondered where Vegeta intended to take her after the wedding. Unsure if it really was still standing or not. Tarble seemed to have no problem having so many guests in his house and took the opportunity to comment that he had already seen a modest property to which they would move in a few months but had not yet bought. Bulma failed to comment that they had planned to renovate Vegeta's old grandfather's property, she didn't know how to explain how they planned to finance it. Vegeta would have to give him those explanations when he thought it was convenient, if he really planned to do so. The count tended to omit many things from his brother and had already expressed on a couple of occasions his distaste for how open she could be when it came to sharing intimacies. After Tarble and Gure arranged their belongings in the main room, the same boy they had sent to the mansion with the Tights’s message, returned to inform them that they should be there by six o'clock.

* * *

He passed the razor through his face, leaving a trace of flawless skin between the foam on his face. When he was perfectly shaved, he wiped his face and looked at the mirror for the last time. While he was noticeably calmer than that day, when he saw Bulma for the last time, he was still upset. Frustrated by the way that little rogue had courted his fiancé, as if he didn't exist at all. However, he had tried to calm down, Tights had brought him the list of guests that afternoon after receiving the Church's response and, although he did not know exactly where he was standing, he said nothing.

That afternoon he would see her again and wasn't sure if he could keep calm, he didn't even know if he wanted to. He dressed and went down to his office, eventually he would have to talk to her, although he had no special desire to do so under the circumstances.

Tarble had suddenly returned and he also had a chat with him. He hoped he could do it after the wedding, that as long as he was away from the city his safety wouldn’t be compromised. And maybe that way he could also hide his unofficial business until it was too late. After putting on a pair of white gloves, he went down to his office, although he had nothing to work on. He wished he had something to occupy the hours until six in the afternoon and that time would pass quickly to end everything at once.

The aroma of the kitchen reached him, where a large number of employees met. It had been an event that Gure's family had presented to the mansion, they hadn’t received guests in that mansion for years and the unexpected meeting that night took them by surprise. His servants were remarkably excited about the movement that seemed to lie ahead in the mansion.

At times Vegeta wondered if he had done something wrong. If the outburst that led him to drag that boy who held Bulma's hands had been a mistake. If he had been rushed and what he should have done was wait for her to give him an answer, but for some reason his skin boiled at idea that she could take it into consideration. She didn't have to think it twice, that boy had already proposed, even before he himself. But he hadn’t done so with that intention, or at least his intention wasn’t so obvious. It had been raised as an option, a mere solution to Bulma's problem and the administration of her assets. This time it had been different, the boy had confessed in a way that he himself could never. He had said words that made her blush and saw her gaze trapped in his. So much was his helplessness that he failed to control himself and took it off him before he could hear what she had to say. And now that she had left without clear intentions to return, he wanted to return to that moment and listen to her.

However, then he believed again that he had done nothing wrong. When he felt indignation again at such disrespect. When he thought he had passed over him to propose something to her. He had been naive to believe that when she was married to him no one would pretend to her again, that his imposing presence would be enough to keep any indiscreet away. But he bitterly discovered that he was wrong.He heard the female voices crossing the hall, the laughter of Tights and Nathalie, the voice of Bulma conversing with Tarble. They had finally arrived.

He got up from his seat and adjusted the lapels of his suit. He walked to them with his face wrapped in a grim expression that intended to hide all his thoughts. He noticed immediately how she looked away, arranged in the finest garments she had paid with his money, her hair delicately collected. But before he could get close, Tarble cleared his throat and stood in front of him. He extended his hand and he saw his gesture, clenched a smile that was probably costing him some work.

"Congratulations, Vegeta," he said and the Count shook his hand without letting go of any word. “I'm glad that finally everything is on track. It’s the only thing I intended for you.”

"Thank you," he replied slightly awkwardly. “We can go to the dining room,” he said without much ceremony and watched as they walked enthusiastically for dinner.

Bulma had handed her coat to one of Vegeta's employees and waited for her to join the rest on her way, walking behind her, making her feel his penetrating gaze on her impolite neck.She expected him to say something, to take her by the arm and drag her to some corner where they would argue about what happened the last time they saw each other, but he didn't and that, even if she had trouble admitting it, had disappointed her.

Vegeta sat at the head of the table and next to him, Tarble and his wife, on the other side Bulma and his sister, with Jaco and Nathalie at his side, Bulma seemed to have promoted her from a maid to her personal escort. Although Vegeta didn’t seem to get along with Tights’s editor in the recent days, he didn’t find the occasion to question his presence. After all, he was a guest of his sister-in-law, whether he liked it or not.

The maids came out the kitchen door carrying large trays of food that would probably feed three times those present. In the center of the table they revealed a sea bass steak with bisque sauce, on the rest of the table they served arugula and blue cheese salads, caramelized sweet potatoes, and a garnish of spinach and mushrooms.

Tights congratulated the count politely and admired the beautiful structure of the chandeliers in front of her on the table, but he said nothing. He arranged a napkin on his lap and an employee served him a portion of steak.

"I didn't think you'd come back so soon," he told Tarble selflessly.

"I had to see it with my own eyes," he replied without neglecting his plate. “When you two return from your honeymoon we will travel again. Someone has to take over the county in your absence.”

"If it doesn't bother you, Tarble, I'd like to stay here for a while, while writing my novel. In the last days I have come up with many ideas for my next book.”

"Bulma's friends are welcome in my house for as long as they wish, you are not a nuisance. How long do you think you are going to be out of the city, Vegeta?”

He cleared his throat. He wasn’t very comfortable talking about his honeymoon when he couldn’t even speak to his fiancé. When they didn't even talk about their last altercation, it bothered him.

"I still don't know," he replied briefly.

Bulma remained absent, paying attention only to her plate and from time to time looking at the count's expression until finally their eyes met. She knew there was a pending conversation and by the palpable silence in the dining room, everyone began to realize it. After dinner, the maids raised the table and made room for dessert. Cheese Souffle.

Fortunately for both, Tights and Tarble spent the rest of the dinner talking about their adventures as an author and about their audacity by posing as a gentleman so that her novels could be sold. Making the environment less tense and even Bulma managed to articulate some comments. But as time passed Vegeta began to feel more anxious, after dessert two very important conversations awaited him. When he finished his souffle he poured himself a glass of brandy and, ready to take the night for granted, he addressed his brother. Tarble told Tights about her wishes to travel abroad with Gure and she took the opportunity to recommend the tourist places she had been lucky to meet, but Vegeta took a sip from his glass and raised his voice.

"If you have a minute, Tarble... There's something we should talk about before you leave."

“Now?”

"If you prefer, it must be private."

He nodded, feeling that there would be nothing good he could tell him. He put his napkin on the table and stood up. Bulma looked at Vegeta for the last time before he retired and the ladies took the opportunity to have tea in the living room. Bulma knew there would be no way she would leave without having crossed a few words with him, although she feared he was in a worse mood after talking to his brother.

He retraced his steps to the office, with Tarble following him closely. He closed the door behind his brother and he preferred not to take a seat. Restless for what he would have to say. Vegeta looked him in the eye and put his drink on the table, the ink stains hadn’t yet completely disappeared.

"Well, what do you have to tell me?"

"I suppose you already met Broly."

"Yes, Bulma told me your reasons for hiring him. I think it’s a little excessive, but I don’t intend to understand anything you do...”

"Tarble, we both know that what happened that day wasn’t an accident."

“I know. What are you saying?”

"I won’t not be able to comply with the clause, even if I marry in two days. It is impossible.”

"I wouldn't say impossible... Unlikely would be the word I would use."

"It doesn't matter, if I don't keep it, you're the one who follows."

"I already told you that I wouldn’t consummate my marriage and I haven’t done so. Gure is very young and not...”

"That doesn't matter, only you and I know it. To others, being both married, either one of us has the possibility of staying with the county. If Nappa was the one who cut the reins of my horse, the only reason he could have to do so is because he intends to keep the county. But he is the third in the line of succession.”

"What are you implying?"

Vegeta walked to his desk and with a small key opened the second drawer. Before Tarble's perplexed gaze, his brother extended a gun. Tarble watched it and then looked closely at the Count's expression.

“Are you serious?”

“Very.”

He hesitated for a moment, but then he took it and held it in his hands, it was a small revolver with enough space for six bullets. He swallowed hard, he had never held a gun before.

"I don't know how to use it..."

"This is the safety," he said, taking it for a moment and then handed it back. “Take it off to shoot. Just in case…”

The youngest sighed. He wasn't sure if he or Gure could be Nappa's target, but, as Vegeta had said, it was only a precaution. Reluctant to fully accept the revolver that lay on the palm of his hand, he decided to keep it in the inside pocket of his jacket.

"I hope I don't have to use it..."

"It would be convenient that when Bulma and I are gone, Broly remains at your home."

“All right… He is not a man of many words, we probably wouldn’t even notice his presence if he wasn’t so monstrously high…”

"If something strange happens, however minimal... Let me know immediately."

"This is not the welcome I expected...”

"Did you expect any kind of welcome from me?"

Vegeta raised an eyebrow and heard his brother let out a light laugh. It was strange to coexist beside him without getting involved in any discussion. Tarble wasn't stupid enough not to take his warnings into account and not accept that maybe he was in danger.

"I'm glad you're well... And that you had the courage to finally ask Bulma to marry you. I've been waiting for you to do it since she arrived, however, I imagine how complicated it was for you. I would like to say that I’ll be calm since you will be in good hands, but I’m not sure now that apparently someone could try to kill us.”

“I would take some shooting lessons if I were you. Show me how you hold it.”

Tarble took the revolver and after hesitating for a moment, picked it up in the air and pointed to some books in the library. Vegeta analyzed his position and approached him, straightened his back, straightened his elbow. He ordered him to spread his legs a little.

"You are a mess," he said at the end.He watched his brother's fierce expression, with a mixture of annoyance and exhaustion. He put the revolver back in his slap, fearing that for some reason it could shoot itself, even if it had the safety on.

"I'll keep that in mind..." he replied with the intention of retiring. “Now I have to think about how to explain to my wife why I have a gun and why we will have a personal escort when you go to your honeymoon... So, if you'll excuse me... I think we'll call it a day.”

He opened the door and went down the hall. Vegeta intended to follow in his footsteps when a pale hand pushed him back into the office and closed the door. Bulma crossed her arms. Her face red of exasperation. Her thin eyebrows furrowed over her little nose.

The Count observed her intentions attentively and noted the great effort she was making to not look him in the eye.

"If you came here to keep quiet, I’m leaving."

"Don't you dare to take a step forward, Vegeta!" She got between him and the only door in the office. She seemed to be joining forces to put her thoughts into words. “It's okay! I admit it! You were right to fire Yamcha. His boldness was very unforgivable, I understand that had to do it...”

"If this is an attempt to apologize, you are doing a lousy job."

She looked into his eyes, her brow still furrowed and her cheeks heated. She walked slowly to him, doubting at every step.

"I'm sorry..." she muttered, although her obfuscated expression hadn’t changed.

"Does it make you mad to have to apologize to me?"

"I'm not mad at you for having to apologize. Well... Maybe just a little. I guess from time to time I can be wrong about something, I can't be so perfect after all...”

"Then why are you?" He demanded to know, sure there would be something more hidden behind her apologies

."I'm mad at you because you denied me the opportunity to give Yamcha an answer."

“An answer?! What the hell were you going to say anyways?!”

"What are you thinking I was going to tell him?! Of course I was going to refuse! I just wanted to tell him; he deserved a proper answer!”

"What that poor bastard deserved was that I send him to the hospital."

"He’s responsible for me being here now! If not for him, I don't have the slightest idea of where I would have ended. He was the one who brought me back here after the humiliation you submitted to me at the dance.”

The words she had to recriminate him stagnated in his throat. Still ashamed of what he had done that night. He had no way to refute her, he couldn't deny that she was right. That, if not for the stable boy, Bulma would be far from him and perhaps life would have been much more cruel to her than it had been until now.

Bulma watched him clench his lips and let out a sigh. She was tired of arguing with the one that would soon be her husband. There were only a few days left before the wedding and not getting along at that moment seemed like idiocy. A huge waste of time.

"Why are you looking at me that way?" She asked, noticing his expression, as exasperated as hers. “Are you mad at me?”

"Of course I'm mad at you! Look how long it took you to come here to apologize! Lately you have done nothing but make me crazy. You disappear like that without saying anything and...”

"You wouldn't be thinking I was going to leave you, would you?"

Her question took him off guard and his expression became uncomfortable. But, although the Count had a gigantic tendency to hide his thoughts, Bulma read it on his face.

"You know I'm not going to leave you, right?" she asked. “Do you trust me?”

"It is in him that I don’t trust. I should have fire him after what happened in the equestrian competition.”

"Vegeta, there is no other person I trust more than you. Don't hesitate on that for a second,” she suddenly confessed in a calm tone and turned to him. Her gaze had already lost all trace of annoyance, rather she looked genuinely worried.

The Count blushed, his back relaxed and looked into her eyes.

"I'm tired of arguing with you..." She said."

At least there is something we agree on."

She smiled weakly and approached him. She kissed him gently on the cheek and took his gloved hand.

“We have many things to do to keep arguing…”

In an unexpected outburst, Vegeta took her by the waist and grabbed her torso by the back. Bulma felt his warm breath on her neck and shivered. She turned to see him. His stormy gaze fixed on her blue eyes.

"The next time you think of leaving that way, it will be the last."

"Are you trying to scare me not to?" In her tone there was a funny touch, but the Count's severe face made her give up. “Vegeta, the next time I leave will be when death do us part,” she barely smiled and invaded with chills under the touch of his hands, approached to kiss him tenderly on the lips.

She felt him pushing with his lips on her, corresponding to that kiss that ended up sealing the vestiges of their last discussion. He ran down her waist, drawing with his digits the seams of her corset, slowly and tortuously until she let out a sigh over his mouth.

"Stay..." he whispered. “Stay tonight…”

The tone of his voice went under her skin and she trembled. She tried to regain her composure and not get carried away by that deafening plea. It required all the strength of her body, but she separated from him and placed a finger on his chest. He still had his hands raised where her waist used to be. His gaze shifted from the tip of the thin finger that lay pointing on him, and then at Bulma's suffering gaze.

"Next time it will be on our wedding night..." she said, desperately trying to sound convincing.

"You better get ready because I'm going to do everything I haven't been able to do in recent weeks."

* * *

The days slipped into his hands, like mere minutes. The Count's mansion was crowded than ever with employees, even more than during Tarble's wedding. Tights had really put a lot of effort into organize the event in such a short time. The cooks had barely been able to cope with the kitchen, and even Raditz had ended up involving his mother who gladly provided the cuts of meat for the post-wedding celebration. Tights wandered from side to side of the mansion with an extensive list, making sure everything was perfectly coordinated for the event. Tarble had precise instructions from the blonde's hand, to receive band members and catering employees. The silver candlesticks that had been stored in the attic for years were displayed on the tables decorated with floral arrangements, after days being polished by the count's staff to regain their original shine. The employees of the house dressed in their unpolluted outfits, the coachmen prepared to receive the hundreds of guests that would arrive that night and, on the outskirts of the mansion, an open carriage decorated with freshly cut flowers, waiting for the couple to take them in a ceremonial road through the city after their marriage was sealed by the Church.

Bulma was about to hyperventilate. With her dress on, her face barely made up as was proper for a girl her age, her neat hairstyle finely picked up. The dream of her wedding had always aspired to be something close, she had been educated for it, to search among all the gentlemen of high society who was the most appropriate, who at that time she believed to be the richest, who had the best title, the most gallant. She was far from believing that she could end up wishing to marry a man with such a reputation, a gentleman with a county that was beginning to suffer from a rapid decline in it wealth, someone whose title would end up losing after his next birthday. Above all, married to a man who dared not profess words of love, although he had demonstrated them with his actions over and over again. Everything felt suddenly rushed, inevitable. And despite that, she had no doubt that she was doing the right thing. She smiled at the mirror, the day had finally come.

Nathalie arranged for the tenth time the curls in her hairstyle and at the end, she gently sprayed her with a perfume that began to feel her favorite. While some of her plans had been delayed and there was nothing in her power or Vegeta's to correct them, she didn't feel worried about it. She had the feeling that everything would be fine from now on. Invigorated and hopeful that this would start a new chapter in her life. In a few hours she would be a happily married woman.

"Everything is ready," said Gure, who had entered the guest room in which Bulma was staying. Bulma's stomach turned, so nervous that she couldn't believe it. Sure and all, she was still shaking like a little girl.

* * *

He gulped hard, like swallowing sand. Looked at his reflection in the mirror and noticed the barking smile of the one beside him. Raditz seemed slightly excited to see him finally dressed in his suit, custom-made and specially created for that event. He adjusted his lapels and noticed that there was something different in his breathing. His pulse was slightly racing and his heart was pounding. He hadn't been able to taste a bite during the morning even though the kitchen was perspiring delicious aromas from early in the morning. He was restless, not because of the celebration and its minors, Tights was on the first floor giving orders everywhere, conscientiously leading the baton of the biggest event of her life.

What would his father think now? He had practically squandered his fortune and lost the county that he had insisted that it was his. About to marry a girl who had reached his mansion with nothing more than a pair of coins and broken shoes. His mother, on the other hand, would probably be satisfied to know that Tarble had ended up better married than him.

"What are you laughing at?" He asked Raditz without bothering to look at him, focused on his reflection.

"I never thought I'd see this day."

“Well, that makes us two.”

He placed a pair of cufflinks on his shirt, some that Tights had chosen and imagined would match the jewelry that Bulma would have on at that time.

"We are ready to leave for the Church," said Tarble, approaching through the door frame of his room, which remained open waiting for that call.

Despite the Count's expression, his heart skipped a beat. He walked alongside the small group of men to a less striking carriage than the one waiting outside the mansion. As he climbed, he took a breath and tried to normalize his breathing. Why was he so nervous? There was nothing to fear from that ceremony, he had already come to an end with everything he hated about it and yet he had decided to get married.

Blocks before arriving at the Church, the tumult of people who waited for them began to be heard in the streets. Carriages gathering in the stone streets pulled by the most spectacular thoroughbreds. Both noble and common, who waited excited for the marriage of a noble couple. Vegeta saw by the window dozens of people gathering, women wearing their most colorful dresses, gentlemen in suits escorting them. When his car stopped, he felt his stomach twist. His sight slightly petrified. Tarble smiled, not even he was so nervous on his wedding day.

The coachman hurriedly approached the small dark door of the carriage and the trio of men was greeted by such a large group of people that he couldn’t even see the door of the Church. Vegeta shook so many hands with barely known faces that it probably exceeded those he had shook in his entire life. Many familiar faces, of which he had met in the Gentlemen's Club, many anxious nobles greeted him effusively, many women smiled excitedly. Perhaps hoping to find their own future husband at that event.

They made their way to the Church and the road opened before them when the doors opened for him. The guests settled around him, leaving clean the path that Vegeta had to travel to his future wife. Suddenly the enclosure was wrapped in silence, all that could be heard was the old cleric, clearing his throat to begin his sermon. The door closed behind him and he found everyone present turning to see him.

Vegeta turned to his brother who stood by his side and he smiled at him trying to give him some strength to continue. Before the attentive gaze of all the guests, Vegeta looked up and saw her there, next to the cleric, waiting for him. She had a beautiful golden dress and a veil with brocades of the same color, like a vine of roses sew in pure gold. He swallowed again and his heart hit him on the throat with deafening force. Then, he took his first step and continued walking to her without taking his eyes off her, unable to turn his attention to the giant group that was watching him. Without even noticing that Tarble was walking behind him, following in his footsteps.

When he finally reached her, he could see her face just below her veil. Then the clergyman began to speak a sermon that almost escaped his ears. He saw her turn to him and he did the same, turning his back on the rest.

_“The Bible reminds us of the importance and values that must be shared between a man and a woman. No other creation can give God the glory of sacred marriage. The scriptures tell us that God created man first, created birds and animals. Then God, the Lord, said: It is not good for man to be alone. I will create for you a proper help. God put him in a deep sleep and while he slept, he removed one of his ribs and replaced it with meat. From the rib that he had taken from the man, God made a woman and presented her to the man, who exclaimed: This is bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh. She will be called "woman" because it was made from the man. That is why man leaves his father and mother, and joins his wife, and the two merge into one being.”_

_»”In creation, man was created first, and then the woman for him, as the Church is for Christ. God was intentional in the creation of women. Eve was made of Adam's rib with the intention that she was by his side, and close to his heart to know his love.”_

_»”Vegeta Ouji. Do you take this woman by your side, to provide her with your protection, to be your wife and to live under God's order in the sacred state of marriage? Do you promise today to love, honor, comfort and keep her away from the evil of others and swear yourself only to her, until death do you part as the purpose of your life?”_

**"I do,"** he replied.

“ _Bulma Briefs. Do you take this man by your side to be your husband? To live together under the command of God in the most sacred state of marriage. Do you promise to love, honor, comfort and keep him away from the evil of others and swear  yourself, and him only, until death do you part as the purpose of your life?”"I do," she replied.Tights approached Bulma and took the bouquet of flowers in her hands. Then she turned to the Count and felt herself tremble under her veil."The scriptures tell us that when a man makes a promise to the Lord or takes a vow, there is no human power that can break it... Vegeta, take your fiancee's hands and repeat after me."_

He gently took her hands with his and looked into her eyes.

_"_ _I, Ouji Vegeta, take you Bulma Briefs to be my wife."_

**"I, Ouji Vegeta, take you Bulma Briefs to be my wife."**

_"I promise to make this covenant before God and these witnesses."_

**"I promise to make this covenant before God and these witnesses."**

_"To be your faithful husband."_

**"To be your faithful husband."**

_"In wealth and poverty."_

**"In wealth and poverty."**

_"In health and illness."_

**"In health and illness."**

_"Until death do us part."_

**"Until death do us part."**

_"Bulma, repeat after me... I, Bulma Briefs take you Vegeta Ouji, to be my beloved husband."_

**"I, Bulma Briefs take you Vegeta Ouji, to be my beloved husband."**

_"I promise to make this covenant before God and these witnesses."_

**"I promise to make this covenant before God and these witnesses."**

_"To be your faithful wife."_

**"To be your faithful wife."**

_"In wealth and poverty."_

**"In wealth and poverty."**

_"In health and illness."_

**"In health and illness."**

_"Until death do us part."_

**"Until death do us part."**

_"As a symbol of your eternal union, present your rings.”_

Gure approached shyly along with Tarble and deposited an alliance on each other's palm. Vegeta took Bulma's pale hand and ceremoniously placed it on her finger, next to her engagement ring. Bulma took the count's hand and did the same.

_"Vegeta, repeat after me... With this ring, I take you as a wife."_

**"With this ring, I take you as a wife."**

_"For the rest of my life I will keep this pact, with this ring as a symbol. In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.”_

**"For the rest of my life I will wear this pact, like this ring as a symbol. In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.”**

_"Bulma repeats after me. With this ring, I take you as my husband.”_

**"With this ring, I take you as my husband."**

_"For the rest of my life I will keep this pact, with this ring as a symbol. In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.”_

**"For the rest of my life I will wear this pact, like this ring as a symbol." In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.** **Amen.”**

_"Everyone has high regard for marriage and marital fidelity, because God will judge adulterers and all who commit immoralities. Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for it to make it holy. He purified it, washing it with water through the word._

_»Wives, submit to your own husbands as to the Lord. Because the husband is the head of his wife, just as Christ is the head and savior of the church, which is his body._

_»Likewise, the husband must love his wife as his own body. Because, as the scriptures say: He who loves his wife loves himself._

_»Father,_ " he said, approaching as he closed his eyes and everyone in that room joined the plea. _“Bless the union between your children, save them from sin and immoralities and accompany their path in the promise of sacred marriage. Amen.”_

_»Now, with the authority that the Church of our Lord Almighty gives me and by the authority that the laws of man give me, I declare you husband and wife. No more two but only one, in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, I declare you husband and wife._

_»Vegeta Ouji, you can kiss the bride.”_

He abandoned her hands and took away her veil. Bulma waited for him with heated cheeks and a slight smile. He took her by the shoulders and laid a chaste kiss on her lips.

When he opened his eyes again he felt deafened with applause from the crowd. He had done it, he had finally married and a smile adorned his face when he found her again.Tights returned her bouquet of flowers to Bulma and she soon took the protective arm of her now husband. She couldn’t contain her splendid smile, cheerfully greeting the guests as they retreated along the same path they had arrived, now as husband and wife.On the outskirts of the Church, an even larger group was waiting for them, applauding and shouting their congratulations.

Before getting into the ornate carriage that awaited them, Bulma threw the bouquet of flowers in the air for some lucky one who would be the next to marry as tradition marked.Raditz was chatting with a young lady he had just met, one who probably wasn't aware of his immoral life. Something suddenly hit him in the face and he took it in the air without knowing what it was. Finding with surprise that he had caught the bouquet.

As in a famous journey, people followed their carriage. Bulma greeted the people who smiled at them and shouted words on the way to the mansion.

Vegeta looked at his hand now dressed in a wedding ring. It hadn't been as terrible as he would have expected. Everything had happened in a minute. He was already married.

He looked at the woman next to him and remembered the cleric's words. She seemed made for him.

Upon arriving at the mansion, they were met by the mansion staff, all presenting themselves to Bulma finally as the lady of that house. Both suitcases were being loaded in another carriage for their next trip. After receiving their Lord and Lady, the staff quickly retired to continue the preparations for the celebration. In a few hours at least half of all those people would enter the mansion and there were still some details to finalize.

When they finally found themselves alone, he watched Bulma marveling at the ring Vegeta had chosen for her. An 14th century Asster cut sapphire, delicately caught in its white gold alliance. She extended her palm by gently moving it to catch the sun's rays and see it reflecting ostentatiously on her finger.

"You heard the priest..." he whispered, approaching her from behind. “Submit to your husbands, right?”

"Husbands, love your wives," she replied, not wanting to erase that smile that had adorned her face from the chapel.

"I think you could start complying to your marital duties..." His malicious smile shook her, however, she observed him in a similar manner and circled her husband's neck with both hands, barely interlacing the tips of her fingers over his neck. He took her by the waist and smiled showing his pearly teeth. That chaste kiss he had given her hadn’t served much to contain the latent need that he had been carrying for weeks.

He leaned over and kissed her as he would have liked, pushing his insistent lips over her, feeling her deep breath caress his cheeks.He was about to drag her into his bedroom to definitively seal the promise that they made, when the door opened and he was forced to part from her lips.Tights, Tarble, Gure, Jaco, Raditz and Nathalie entered the mansion scandalized, laughing and carrying their conversation to effusive shouts. Vegeta was stunned and was forced to release his wife when her sister came to hug her and tear her away.

"We have to prepare you!" she yelled and took her hand to take her, with Nathalie and Gure running behind them, firmly grasping their wide skirts until they lost sight of each other.

Vegeta clean his moist lips with the tip of his finger and looked sideways at the two who were by his side.

"Should we toast?" Said Tarble.

* * *

He had no chance to find her alone again. The mansion was flooded with guests dressed in the finest suits and dresses, the living room was plagued with large and ostentatious gifts. The rooms before and the great hall itself were crowded with people. Tarble had dedicated a few words of support to his brother and Bulma in a small but meaningful speech, much better than Vegeta had given at his wedding. Tights spoke on behalf of his parents and flaunted on her talent, leaving the guests on the verge of tears with her words. The room cleared and from the main table Vegeta watched them dance. Tarble danced with his wife and her sisters-in-law, they danced with their husbands and their elderly father.

Everything felt strangely normal. People did nothing but congratulate him and give him good wishes, in asking him to take care of the young beauty he had taken for his wife. He smiled, he knew that those people had talked about him and probably her. But a wedding wasn’t the occasion to talk about improper topics, the festive air wouldn’t allow it.

Raditz took the opportunity to drink without paying and Nathalie watched his courtship from afar, as if it were funny.

"Aren't you going to try the cake?" Said Bulma, who sat beside him, pricking the biscuit with a small fork. She took a piece and brought it to him. He looked at her expectantly, her face was so smiling that he couldn’t refuse and opened his mouth to give it a taste. He looked up and met Raditz's mocking gaze and modesty invaded his face.

"How much more are we going to stay? We can leave whenever we want and let them continue with the celebration for us.”

  
"Just a couple more hours... I haven't had such a good time in a long time. Tarble's wedding wasn’t exactly my best night, nor was the last masquerade. I like these things Vegeta, I like to see my friends having fun... Would it bother you to stay a little longer?”

“Fine. Just a couple...”

Bulma wasted no time and got up to dance with her sister and her political family. Suddenly he saw her pouring cup after cup until her cheeks stopped blushing for mere modesty. Vegeta looked at her from afar, wondering if at least the wedding night would end as he had expected. He sighed defeated, probably not. At least he hadn't had such a bad time after all.

The food had been top notch like the spirits, the band had a very wide repertoire and, above all, Bulma was having fun. And although it was hard for him to feel integrated in that environment, at least he was satisfied to watching her dance from afar, laughing with her friends and genuinely enjoying the party.

"Weren't you lucky?" He asked Raditz when he saw him approach. “You cached the bouquet, you have to hurry to find a husband or they will start calling you a spinster.”

"Very funny... And no, the moment they realize that I don't have a famous last name, they run away."

"That’s your fault. I’ve seen the women you approach."

"I have expensive tastes, Vegeta. I like unattainable women, those who have looked at me with distaste or cross the street in fear of being robbed,” he replied with a smile. “Bah, give them some time. As soon as their husbands neglect them, they will remember all the effort I put in seducing them and they’ll come back crawling for me.”

The Count watched his wife, laughing across the room with a glass in her hands. Conversing about something he couldn't hear with Jaco and her sister. If the musicians stopped, he might have been able to hear her scandalous laugh, but from where he was he could only see her. Unmistakable in that burdensome pale golden dress.

Suddenly he saw her crossing the room directly to his direction, took him by the hand and dragged him into the center of the room and forced him to dance with her. Unfortunately, there was no way to make her give up and that was what was expected of him. He knew how to dance, his father had paid some classes for him in the hope that he would eventually decide to woo some lady according to him, but he hadn't done it in a long time and felt slightly rusty. But she didn't seem to notice anything.

"You are drunk," he said after a couple of hours when he had finally decided that they could begin their journey.

"Just a little," she replied with a flushed face and a dazed look.

When she fell asleep in his lap she knew it wouldn’t be the wedding night he had been waiting for and sighed. He looked at her, lying on him with ruffled hair and stroked the curve of her waist with no other intention than to prove that it was really true, he had really married.By the time the carriage stopped, he realized that at some point during the night he had also fallen asleep and lightly shook his wife's back.

"Are we there yet?" she asked, carving her eyes.

"We're halfway there, we're at the inn," he replied and realized he hadn't even told her where they were going.

Both got out of the carriage and the coachmen loaded their bags to the reception. After registering, a boy handed them the key and took their bags to accompany them to their room.

Bulma watched the spacious room, so ostentatious that left her breathless. She looked at the bed and swallowed hard, they had spent so many days without getting involved in their extramarital activities that, by just seeing it, she imagined what would happen next and blushed. She heard Vegeta's slow footsteps behind her and shivered before he could put a hand on her.

She felt his warm breath caress the bare skin of her shoulder and turned just to see him. Everything was said in his dark and malicious gaze. Vegeta was tired of waiting.Without asking permission, he slowly undid the edges of her corset and loosened the straps that tightly tightened her waist. Bulma remained static, listening to the fabric through the eyelets of her dress, hearing the way her dress disarmed over her torso.

She clenched her arms over her chest, preventing her corset from falling to the ground when he began the same rigorous task on her skirt.

"I hate these dresses..." he muttered impatiently to undress her.

Without warning, she turned and faced his nocturnal gaze. Vegeta ran his gaze through her eyes and her brow slightly contracted, then he looked at her parted lips and approached her slowly to taste her again. Bulma felt his insistent lips over her and his hands surrounding him, begging to continue the painful task of removing her dress. She released the tight grip on her chest to remove his jacket, he dropped it to the floor and she continued with his shirt, clumsily unbuttoning each button as she was pushed by the Count's steps to the bed. Her dress finally fell to the ground and Vegeta took a moment to observe her fine underwear. He laid his fingers on her shoulder and pushed the fine cloth carefully so that it fell to the floor with the rest of her dress, knowing that soon he would have her totally naked in front of him.

She fell to bed when her knees collided with the mattress and Vegeta, with his naked torso under his unbuttoned shirt, leaned toward her and kissed her desperately. He missed the feel of her lips more than he had anticipated. Bulma felt his tongue joining hers and took his masculine jaw in her hands, while he stroked her legs under the thin fabric of her underwear to the thigh.

She froze when she heard someone knocking at the door a couple of times.

Vegeta looked at Bulma's shocked face and they both turned to the door.

"I put the lock, he’ll eventually get tired of waiting and leave," he told her and then kissed her again.

Bulma parted her legs for him and the Count pressed his hips against her, drowning an intense snort.He knocked again and Vegeta froze still kissing his wife.

"My apologies, Count. We have a welcome tray from the inn for you and your wife.”

"Did you put the sign?" Bulma asked in a whisper and Vegeta turned to the door once more. He hadn't done it and the poor bastard on the other side of the door knocked again.

"He won't leave," he growled and reluctantly left his wife's lap.

He got up and closed the drapery held by the edges of the bed, hiding Bulma behind. He walked to the door and opened it just a few inches to see the young bellboy with a silver tray in his hands. He saw him smile kindly and then got uncomfortable to see the unbuttoned shirt of the Count.

"Good morning, Sir. The inn...”

Vegeta ignored him, placed a sign on the doorknob and closed the door without answering. _Do not disturb_ , it read on the sign.Impatient and annoyed to waste time, he walked urgently to the bed and ran the curtain. Bulma was waiting for him in the same position and her face embarrassed. The Count didn’t take long to throw himself at her and take back her lips. Unable to contain his desire for her for longer.

He kissed her lips and traveled to her chin, then her neck and her collarbone, while she tried to get rid of her shirt.He undid the last knots of her thin underwear and dragged her by her arms until he freed her breasts and didn’t stop until the fabric fell under her feet. Permanently amazed by the same appetite that Bulma woke up in him in each encounter.

She sighed and gasped his name when the Count's gently nibbled her breasts, squeezing them in such a way that he seemed to be restraining himself, as if he were vehemently retaining his own strength.With her chest moist from his saliva and the road traveled reddened in her white skin, she again saw his hungry expression. He watched her breathing deeply under his body, her cheeks flushed and her eyes shining with desire for him. How much she had waited for that moment without actually knowing it.

His heart beat hard inside him, rumbling against his ribs so loudly that he could have sworn she could hear him. A strange sensation invaded him, blinded by the woman who lay under his body about to sigh his name again. He loved her. He loved her so much that his skin hurt.

And although he wanted to do with her all the obscenities that came to mind, it seemed that he did it more as a tribute to everything he longed for than for himself. He felt there was no way he could possess her to do justice to how he felt. There was no way to bring to her skin all that corroded him from the inside.He was in love, just as he had been told and didn't want to believe. He was madly in love with her.

Bulma took her husband's face by the cheeks and kissed him slowly, like a caress of wet and warm velvet. She felt his hands wandering around her waist to get lost on her hips, starting again to push his body against hers still separated by the fabric of his pants that didn’t do much to hide his erection.She heard him groan against her ear when she felt his stiff masculinity pressing on her innermost space. With her hot breath moistening his skin between his shoulder and neck, sighing her impatient moans over him. Massaging her chest without neglecting any stretch of her figure.

Losing the little sanity he had left, he leaned on his knees on the mattress and unbuttoned his pants. His body ached with desire, he couldn't wait another second. He no longer needed to take precaution or worry about anything but her satisfaction, she was made for him.He bit his lips as he took himself to explore her, closed his eyes delighting in her moisture and pushed on her softly and slowly when he heard her groan his name. He rested his hands on the mattress next to her face and entered her, sighing in each light push until he reached the end of her warm interior. Burning inside and trembling at the exquisite sensation of their sexes, finally united.

She clung to his broad back, burying her nails insistently against his warm flesh and contracted muscles. She raised her legs and felt him more and more attached to her, softly groaning his thrusts. Finally, their celibacy had only served to make them more anxious about what they had avoided.

The Count rested his forehead on hers, dripping just a couple of drops of sweat. He looked into her eyes as he made her his own, lost in the blue of her gaze, hoping to know every intimate detail of her expression as he made her his one more time. Her trembling frown, her lips between open and incipient blush on her face. As if he could never get tired of seeing her that way, succumbing to him and the things he could make her experience.He huffed when he felt her moving her hips under him, insisting that he do it faster, that he do it stronger.Obedient, Vegeta took her hip with one hand and pushed hard without losing sight of her, biting his lips when he saw her close her eyes to let herself experience that unique sensation. Faster until her groans sounded choppy and her chest swayed hard from her breathing.

Suddenly, he left her and sat up on his knees, took her by the hip and forced her to turn her back. He took off his pants, eager to continue and placed himself on her, kissing every inch of her back until he completely covered her shoulders, then went down her spine, kissing and licking the sweat lingering on her skin. He nibbled the cheek of her butt and brought his hand to the space between her legs, wet and hot. He went through the soft folds of her sex and half smiled, he loved knowing her as eager as he was.

He leaned his chest against her small back while still touching her there, where she lost her mind. With his free hand he ran the strands of hair that lay on neck and nibbled her earlobe.

"You're so wet..." he said and smiled, making her feel shame for the uncontrollable way in which her body reacted to him.He entered her again, barely able to control the intense throbbing of his limb, feeling the throbbing thundering loudly within his entire body.

Bulma felt his hand strolling around her waist, tracing the curve of her navel against the mattress and losing itself in her swelling sex to touch her as only he knew. She clung to the sheets, trapped under his chest and unable to escape the sensations he so decidedly intended to provoke her. Her toes shivered as she began to take her hard, faster and faster, more desperate to feel her to her most intimate inch.He fell on Bulma's back, sighing his breaths, feeling his wife's back contracting for the last time until she fell faintly on the mattress beside him.

* * *

Vegeta had chosen one of his father's residences to spend his honeymoon, one that wasn’t too far from the city to take too long to return in case the entire patent issue was resolved. The residence had a small number of employees, enough to keep the house clean and prepare their bathrooms and every meal. A discrete amount that couldn’t interrupt the marital acts that had begun to occur in every corner of the residence.Being married wasn’t so bad, he thought and looked at the woman who lay naked hugging his torso. He stroked the curve of her snowy back and felt her wake up. She opened her eyes and smiled at him, she looked tired. Maybe he should let her rest one night...

She sat on the bed having absolutely lost the shame about her naked body and, looking into his eyes, sat astride on him.Vegeta smiled and stroked her legs.

"Haven’t you had enough?"

"I'm afraid you'll have to work a little harder."

“Harder?”

She nodded amusedly and Vegeta sat up skillfully to leave her under his body, immobilizing her wrists.

After making love to his wife, as he had done for the last weeks every morning, Vegeta dressed a comfortable bedding and next to Bulma they set out to breakfast.

"I see your appetite has widened," he scoffed when he saw her spread her fourth bread with butter.

“Ey! It's the exercise, do you want a scrawny wife? I don't want to lose my figure.”

"There's still something we haven't talked about..." he said. He knew that if they had that conversation they could end up arguing early on their honeymoon, so he didn’t brought up the subject during the first few days. “I thought you would understand that I don't like to discuss my affairs with strangers, what you did with your sister out of line and you know it.”

Bulma frowned.

"What you did by hiding the whole thing from the Gentlemen's Club was also out of line for my liking. I gave you the opportunity to tell me about it early and you didn't do it, you made up the excuse that you were only talking about men's affairs, don't think I forgot it. How was I going to marry someone who can lie to me on my face like that?”

"I wasn't lying to you."

"You were omitting information. Is the same thing.”

“What you did was worse, you disclosed my affairs without regard to people I don't trust.”

"I trust my sister, and if you're going to use that excuse, you shared information with Raditz instead of me."

An employee arrived to interrupt the conversation, approaching the Count with the correspondence that had come to him that morning after apologizing for his presence. Vegeta looked at the envelope and was surprised for a moment.

"Is it about the patent?" Bulma asked, biting the bread she had just prepared.

Vegeta's appearance became iron, the grip on the letter seemed immovable and his expression managed to shake her."What does it say, Vegeta? You are making me nervous.”

"Pack your stuff," he said, rising from the table. “Now, Bulma, you’ll eat in the way,” he demanded.

Vegeta walked quickly to his room to get dressed, the letter still in his hands. He ignored the claims of his wife who closely followed in his footsteps until she finally snatched the letter out of his hands to read it for herself.

* * *

 

**_"We have a problem, come back immediately._ **

**_Raditz."_ **

* * *

 

 


	31. Chapter XXXI

* * *

**IN YOUR HANDS**

* * *

 

Chapter

-XXXI-

* * *

 

She couldn't believe that the bubble had burst like that, so fast that she barely noticed it in the change in her husband's expression. He had been so calm that she had even made fun of him since his face wasn’t as frowned as usual. He was relaxed, so much that she was convinced that this would probably be his new expression in the coming years. Maybe she would get rid of it from time to time just to see again that exasperated way of looking he had when she met him. But not this way. Not like this.

"Aren't you going to tell me what this means?"

She asked as she followed Vegeta into the room, watching him carelessly pack his belongings. Then he took a second suitcase and opened it on the bed.

"Pack," he ordered.

Bulma felt her heart squeezing inside her and, although Vegeta had given her no more reasons than those expressed in that brief letter, she knew she couldn’t doubt at that moment. She hurried over the wardrobe and flipped a few dresses that squeezed into her suitcase. Seeing the difficulty she had to close it, the Count turned and closed it almost effortlessly to take it next to his.

"Get dressed quickly," he said. “I’ll wait for you in the carriage.”

Bulma still wore her robe, like every morning since they had arrived at Vegeta's residence on the outskirts of the city. Distressed by her short stay, Bulma took the dress she planned to wear after a long bath and hurried out the door, still adjusting a shoe at the door of the small mansion.

On the way back she couldn’t control herself, they had at least eight hours of travel to the capital and she needed an explanation to have abandoned her honeymoon in such a hurried way. Something was terribly wrong and judging by his appearance he thought exactly the same.

"What did Raditz mean by problems?"

He looked at her and pursed his lips. The truth was that he didn’t know, it could really be anything that could lead Raditz to invoke him back, however, the fact that there was no more information in his letter made him think only one thing. No one but him could know what was bringing him back to the city.

"I still don't know," he replied briefly. “I just know that Raditz wouldn't call me for any nonsense.”

"Do you think it has to do with Black?" She murmured, in the privacy of their carriage. “Do you think they know what I did?! Oh my God! I don't even know where I left the letter opener! Maybe someone saw me? What will happen if there is a witness and...”

Vegeta's hands clung tightly to her shoulders and she shivered under his hands. He looked into her eyes and found himself with an even more determined look than he had when he left his room.

"If someone knew who was really responsible for Black's death, it wouldn’t have been Raditz's letter that would bring us back, it would have been the police. And no, there are no witnesses, nobody saw you, everyone in the mansion testified exactly the same as us.”

When he felt her relax her muscles under his touch, he released her slowly as he tried to convince himself of his own words.

"There is a witness..." Bulma muttered. “Raditz...”

Vegeta felt his skin itching at the irrefutable truth she had enunciated.

"You said you trusted him, didn't you?"

He stepped aside and clenched his teeth.

"Bulma, I don't trust anyone. I trust what I know and I know that Raditz will be loyal to me as long as he gets some benefit from me. With the Club, with the salary I pay hm, with the investment, all that will bring him profit. Do you understand now?”

"But I thought you were friends. You've been together for years, I'm sure he will be loyal to..."

"Yes, I've known him for years and yet I can't tell we are friends. Let’s not hurry... Maybe we run with some luck and it’s not even what we imagine.”

His words failed to calm her completely, if it wasn't something related to Black's death it could be that something terrible had happened with her invention, even with her sister or with Tarble and Gure. But she tried to remain silent and not to shout hers fears out loud, fearing terribly that she could make them come true just by pronouncing them.

The hours in the silent carriage became eternal and the minds of both began to spin different scenarios, one more disastrous than the last. By the time they finally arrived back at the mansion, Bulma felt her chest squeeze tightly and when she came down, she felt strange. Everything seemed so normal that she felt disturbed. It was late, they had left so early in the morning. And although she was extremely tired after her trip there was nothing else that could occupy her mind.

The coachman took their bags and accompanied them to the entrance, there was no one in the hall waiting for them as she had thought. There was nothing out of the ordinary and that gave her the chills.

"Raditz must be at the Club," he said when he noticed the same thing she did, but when he was about to leave one of her servants came over to welcome them.

"Master Tarble is waiting for you in your office," she said smiling and they both turned in surprise.

When the girl withdrew, Bulma took Vegeta by the sleeve of his jacket and approached him worriedly.

"How did Tarble know we would return? Do you think Raditz told him?”

"I don't know... I'll see what he wants before I go," he replied, believing for a moment that perhaps it was Tarble who had sent him to call.

The idea seemed equally strange, he thought as he walked down the corridor to his office. If Tarble had had any inconvenience, it would most likely have been him who sent a letter himself, and not involve Raditz with whom he had virtually no relationship.

When he opened the door of his office, he found him sitting in his father's old seat and thought that he had never seen such a severe expression in him. Tarble looked up from the document he read selflessly and fixed his glacial gaze on his brother.

Vegeta entered the office feeling a strange sensation permeate him. He closed the door behind him and when he was about to question him, he spoke.

"I was hoping you wouldn't come..." he commented, smiling bitterly. “I wanted to believe that you would stay with Bulma for at least a month...”

“What's going on?” He asked, irritated.

"No, Vegeta. It is not you who will ask the questions today. Now tell me, why did you interrupt your trip so suddenly?”

"I don't have to explain myself to you."

"Wouldn't it be easier for you to lie to me? Use any excuse, I don't care. But don't avoid my question. Tell me, why did you come back so fast?”

"I didn't come to be the subject of your interrogation!" He replied with intentions of turning to the door and Tarble stood up.

"Don't you dare leave without answering me!" He yelled when he was about to take the door knob. Vegeta turned surprised by his tone. “What the hell are you up to? Do you think I don't know that you've been ranting our money?! Why this sudden expense? Did you spend half of our fortune? What the fuck?!”

Vegeta smiled and turned to him.

"It's not our money, Tarble, it's my money. I think you have already concluded that neither will comply with the clause, there is no time to do so and you have already decided not to consummate your marriage. All I do is leave Nappa crumbs for when he is the new Count. But don't worry, I left enough to pay family allowances, salaries and so on until the time comes. Didn't you say you planned to buy a property with your wife's dowry? I don't see why you suddenly care about inheritance.”

"I don't care about inheritance, I made it clear to you. But there is something you haven’t yet answered and I’ll do it for you, since apparently you don't have the guts to do it.”

The Count crossed his arms, slightly amused by the guess his younger brother would have taken.

"You are here because they found Black's body."

His words froze his blood and he gulped after hearing it. His expression turned to surprise, Tarble's face remained as strong as it was when he entered the office.

“Is that?” He asked again.

“Do not be stupid.”

“Stop lying!”

"I have nothing to do with it! The police have already investigated me and all the employees of this house. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have more important issues to attend to.”

"The police didn't investigate your alibi as well as you think," he replied and rummaged through his jacket pocket.

Vegeta watched him carefully as he left something on the table and looked confused at the checkbook.

“What is that?”

"That night you told the police that you had gone to Dad's old office for this checkbook, and that you came back immediately afterwards. What did you really go to if you never took it?” Caught and without a reasonable excuse for that little carelessness, Vegeta clenched his fists and looked Tarble in the eye. "Tell me the truth... Did you kill Black?"

He felt that everything was over, Tarble had almost reached the bottom of the matter and perhaps the best thing for him and Bulma would be to end the matter there, before he really knew what had happened that night.

"Yes," he murmured in a tight tone and watched his brother's broken expression. “I killed him.”

“Why?!” He yelled hysterically. “Why did you do something so stupid?!”

"Because I was fed up with him!" He replied with some sincerity.

Tarble looked sick, he put a hand to his stomach, feeling in his gut a terrible pain and even nausea. He looked astonished at his brother as if he were seeing a new person and stepped away from him. Vegeta smiled, was his brother afraid of him?

"Who the hell are you...?" he asked, clinging to the desk, unable to believe the macabre confession he had just heard.

"What will you do now that you know it? Will you hand me over to the police?”

"What the fuck did you do, Vegeta?!"

The office door suddenly opened and they both turned. Bulma hadn’t been able to avoid hearing the screams coming from the office and her heart skipped a beat when she heard Vegeta's words. The Count looked at her, anticipating what she was about to do and took her arm desperate to take her away from Tarble.

“Get out of here!” He roared and Bulma looked Tarble in the eye, her eyes crystallized with tears.

“It was me!” She yelled before Vegeta could stop her.

"Don't listen to her," the Count demanded, dragging her out of the office.

"Let her talk!" Shouted Tarble and approached her. “And close the door…” he said later.

Vegeta turned to his brother and Bulma took advantage of that moment to get rid of the Count's hands to close the door and lean on it.

"Don’t speak," her husband demanded, stepping between her and Tarble. “Don’t you dare to say a single word.”

“No!” She said, terrified of what she was about to say. “I will not let you carry this alone. You don't have the power to stop me!”

"It would be better if you both give me an explanation right now."

"I'm going to handle this, just keep quiet."

“I will not do it! I won't let Tarble hand you over to the police for something I did!”

"You wouldn't last an hour in jail, now be silent and get out of here!"

“I don’t care! Tarble… I was the one who killed Black,” she managed to say before Vegeta covered her lips.

He was furious and looked at her in despair. Feeling that all the control he had fell apart before him. However, she had already spoken, she had already confessed the truth and there was nothing left to deal with Tarble. He released her shortly after, incredulous of what was happening and turned to his brother.

“What will you do?” He asked. “Are you going to turn her in?”

At that moment he realized what he would be willing to do with his own brother to cover up that horrendous deed. Watching him as if he were another enemy. But Tarble was far from noticing his brother's terrible ideas since his gaze didn’t abandon Bulma's.

"What really happened?" He asked weakly.

Bulma felt her throat squeeze when she tried to speak, as if she still couldn't reveal in detail what happened that night. As if fresh memories hurt on her skin and she ended up muttering unfinished words.

"Black followed her to the office and tried to rape her," Vegeta replied knowing how difficult it would be for Bulma to tell him. His disgusted face didn't seem dishonest. “She had to finish him before he could do it.”

Tarble stepped back to the desk and sat back, sorry, unable to believe that what he was hearing was real. As if everything were a fantasy or a nightmare from which he couldn’t wake up. He stroked his hair, overwhelmed, and then raised his face to them.

“How…?” He managed to say before running out of voice.

"Bulma left without the desk key and when I realized I went to get the checkbook for myself. Now you will understand why I forgot it.”

"Did you get rid of him?"

“Yes. No one was going to believe her, that fool was a nobleman after all. We both know how everything would end if we didn't do something about it.”

"I... I need air..." he said nervously and got up, walked beside them ignoring them and retreated through the door to the back gardens.

Bulma froze, about to start crying, when she saw Vegeta turn his back to see Tarble's direction through the window.

"Tarble isn’t going to tell... he can't..."

“You do not know that!” He shouted. “Dammit! What did you do!? Why did you have to tell Tarble above all people!? I had everything under control!”

“Under control?! The only thing you had under control was that only you would go to jail!”

"And this is better? Why should we both go to prison when I could have carried this alone? How many years do you think they will give you for this? You are lucky if you don’t end up hanged!”

"What if you end up hanged, is that better? Do not say foolishness! I got you into this!”

"That doesn't matter anymore," he growled, watching Tarble who seemed about to hyperventilate in the gardens. “If Tarble gives us in we are finished, I suppose that would give Raditz some relief, his brother would be exonerated.”

Suddenly, Bulma approached him and laced her fingers over the palm of his hand. He watched her, wiping away the tears she had been holding for all that time and saw her frown in a determined gesture.

"We're together on this, did you hear me?"

Vegeta instantly thought of both standing at the edge of a platform, surrounded by people clamoring for the gallows. He would never have imagined that death could separate them so soon. He took her hand tightly and swore it wouldn't be that way, at least for her.

By the time Tarble finally returned, his face barely improved, he found Bulma and Vegeta chatting quietly, looking both in the eye with a complicity he had never seen in anyone else. He was about to shed a couple of tears, still incredulous about everything that had happened in his nose without him noticing. He finally understood everything that both had went through and imagined the obtuse way in which that relationship had flourished. Distressed by the circumstances, he closed the door and they both remained silent.

"You can be calm..." he barely murmured. “I can't… I can't turn you…” he said in a broken voice and a tear ran down his cheek. “If what you say is true... It’s terribly unfortunate... I... I can't. I can’t give in my own brother for having done what he thought was right. I can't give you, Bulma, if what happened is true, I know you had no choice... This is... terrible. I really wish I hadn't known; I would like to erase everything I heard today and not be complicit in this cover-up. There is nothing else I can tell you...”

"You're not the only one who knows..." Vegeta replied and Tarble's worried look fell on him. “Raditz was also involved. He is the one who have me call, probably his brother is being questioned about this right now.”

"Is he going to confess?"

“I think so. If his brother has the bad luck of being found guilty of murder, he will surely confess to free him.”

Tarble could barely bear the guilt he felt for having the confession of both of them in his possession and now, knowing that a third party could take over giving his family to the authorities, he suddenly felt devastated. The whole picture was extremely dark for both of them and for himself if someone knew he was aware of all that. Again, he ran out of air, as if the room was shrinking with him inside. His hands shook and he stammered something he couldn't understand himself. He tried to regain his composure and stand up straight, even though he felt so upset that he felt he was bending over his stomach just thinking about it again.

"We can pay for his lawyer..." he stammered without understanding why he was getting involved in that way.

"Raditz has money to pay for his brother's lawyer. That’s not the problem, he has no alibi. If he was released it was only because Black was missing, now that he was found dead it will be another story.”

"I'll find a law firm that represents both of them if necessary," he said, feeling his limbs tremble at the pressure of his own words, as if they came out of his mouth without even thinking about them. “If Bulma tells what happened we may reach an agreement, if she testifies and...”

“That's possible?” She asked Vegeta.

"Zamasu is not going to settle for a light sentence for Black's death, if you are going to testify they will use everything they have against you. At that time you didn’t have a penny, you were an employee, who knows if someone saw you with him at the last dance and used it to tear you apart. They will say that you should have spoken at the time, they will question you why did it took you so long to tell the truth to discredit you, do you really think I'm going to let us get to that point?”

"Let me think... There has to be a solution..." murmured Tarble, still overwhelmed, running his fingers through his hair in a notoriously nervous gesture. The tips of his fingers trembled, his chest under the jacket felt suffocated.

"There isn't," Vegeta replied. “Do you think I haven't been thinking about this for a while? All we can do now is wait for that fool's trial to go well, until then something we have to think of something to deal with Raditz.”

"We have to go talk to him," Bulma said.

“We? I have to go talk to him, you can't control your tongue for a minute. You are going to stay here until I return and it would be better for you not to think about leaving this house for any reason.”

"Vegeta is right..." Tarble snapped. “The best thing will be for him to talk to Raditz and reach an agreement. It will not help that neither of them intervenes... It’s best to wait to see how the trial goes. I... I'll see if I can find out something about it.”

"Tarble..." his brother called him when he was about to retire. “Can I trust that you’ll keep your mouth shut?”

He nodded weakly.

"I still don't believe that this is true and I may need some time to get used to the truth, but I wouldn't want to see either of you get the death penalty for this..." He couldn't continue and swallowed the words. “I just hope this doesn't cost me my head too.”

When Tarble left, they both fell silent again. Vegeta looked at the checkbook that lay on the table. Tarble had left them the only evidence that made his alibi tremble. He took it in his hands and split it in two and then threw it in the trash.

"Where is the letter opener?"

After Bulma told him where she had hidden it, in her old room, they both went for it and Vegeta put it in his jacket. It was inevitable that they would get involved in a new discussion about the conversation they would have with Raditz, but Vegeta's words were firm and Bulma knew that she would have to obey on that occasion.

"If someone asks why we came back, tell them it was for your engine's patent," he said before leaving, remembering Tarble's questions.

By the time Vegeta had left, Bulma was still feeling the sting on her skin for not knowing the fate that awaited them and, for a moment, she wondered how Milk was going through the same circumstances. She was sorry to imagine her pregnant and fearing for the fate of her son's father. For now, she would have just a lump on her stomach, perhaps her pregnancy wouldn’t be really noticeable for a couple of months. She felt terribly guilty for the hardships she must be going through, but she knew that eventually the one that would have to deal with it would be herself, if Goku's trial didn’t go in his favor.

She wandered selflessly through the mansion and as she walked, she felt a few steps rapidly approaching her. She turned and found the familiar face of Nathalie who had probably barely heard of her return and came to greet her. She tried to simulate a smile when she saw her and when she approached, she hugged her. And more than as a welcome it felt like a relief to feel the warmth of her hug. Forced to lie to her when she asked her why she had returned so quickly, she told her what Vegeta had ordered.

"For the patent," she said, smiling.

“What a great news!” She answered and took her hand. “Finally we can open the wedding gifts! I've been watching the packages every day since you left and I'm dying of curiosity.”

Bulma knew there would be nothing else that could occupy her time to leave her mind calm, so she had no choice but to accept and follow her to the room where dozens of elegantly wrapped boxes lay.

She sat on a sofa and watched her approach her the first one and tried to hide her emotions when she saw a set of cutlery that would have made her extremely happy at another time. She broke the wrapping of another after reading a wonderful letter with the best wishes of a Marques she didn't even know. Then she followed with a smaller one and took the small letter that lay under a red ribbon. The box was heavy despite its size and was wrapped in dark paper. She read the letter out loud, typed on a machine.

_A gift for the bride, which holds the best of futures._

She heard Nathalie hold her breath to see a fine set of earrings and a splendid pearl necklace.

“Incredible!” she said peering over her shoulder, but was surprised to notice how immobile Bulma was. “Is something wrong?...”

"You don't know what this means?"

"That someone spent a fortune on your wedding gift?"

"Nathalie... Nobody gives pearls to newlyweds, it's a bad omen."

"How can this be a bad omen?" she asked, taking the box from her hands to get an earring.

"Pearls symbolize tears... The bride's tears."

“Who gave it to you?”

"It has no signature ..."

"I don't understand, why would anyone give you something like that?!"

“I don’t know. We didn’t invite anyone to the wedding that... That could have something against us.”

"There were many people at the wedding, how about someone sending it through a guest? The Count's cousin is the only one that comes to mind.”

"To mine too," Bulma lied.

On the way to The Black Widow, Vegeta thought carefully about his options. He had run out of Aces under his sleeve, almost. He didn’t know much about the investigation and Raditz would probably be thinking of the best way to negotiate a deal for himself after covering up Black's death. He had no idea how, but he had to get ahead of him and if everything went wrong, he knew exactly what he would have to do despite how much Bulma insisted they were together on this.

He knew exactly what would happen if Bulma ended up confessing. He knew well how they would take her to the stand to question every intimate detail of her life and her privacy. Who knows if someone would appear to testify that she had worked in a brothel. Where would her credibility go if that detail came to light? He imagined that possible scenario; she, arguing that she had left with her decorum intact from that dismal place and the rest accusing her of a reprehensible reputation.

Black's advances towards her were notorious, anyone would have realized his intentions if he hadn’t been responsible for spreading them everywhere. The one who would probably know better than anyone was Zamasu, and if it occurred to him to testify been witness to it, he would begin Bulma's downfall. Also, if someone had seen the way Black had taken her in the masquerade through a dark corridor, he wouldn’t know if he could tolerate hearing the accusations, things he himself had believed when he saw him kiss her. Even, perhaps he himself would have contributed unknowingly to that verdict, ruining her reputation by keeping her living in his house without being married. No one could believe Bulma, they would accuse her of having seduced him, of finishing his sanity. And she would deny everything at the top of her lungs, to have slept with him or even have intentions of accepting his advances. Then they would accuse her of things he couldn’t tolerate even imagining.

Just to image her before a stage full of alleged gentlemen, pointing her, saying unforgivable things, made him feel deeply disgusted.

By the time he arrived he felt a pain in his chest impossible to ignore. Even so, he walked steadily through the back door of the Club and entered without anyone being able to see him. Fortunately, at that time there was only a couple of cleaning employees, ordering the disasters of the night before. He looked at the desert surroundings and perceived a light on the first floor, behind the black glass.

He climbed the ladder and prepared himself mentally. He knocked on the door and heard his voice inviting him to pass. Vegeta didn't know how long it had been since he had entered that room. He knew it wasn't that lavish that time, Raditz seemed to have extravagant tastes in his decoration. Understandable for someone who hasn’t had such wealth for most of his life. The desk behind him was even bigger than his and he found him drinking bourbon with his face emaciated. He had the look of someone who hadn't been able to close an eye all night.

He walked to him and, in a gesture that Raditz had had too many times in his mansion, he turned to the bar and poured himself a glass of the bottle that remained on the desk, staining the wood with an areola of alcohol. He sat down and remained silent for a moment contemplating Raditz's countenance, which seemed to be coping with the situation worse than himself.

"How did they find him?" He asked after the first sip.

"The damn estate..." he replied indignantly. “It was abandoned when I buried him there. I didn’t have much time; I couldn’t dig so deep in the middle of the night... The sun was going to rise and I assumed that it would decompose before someone finds him. Last week someone bought it and the dogs found it.”

"What about your brother? I guess that's what you meant when you said we had a problem.”

"They took him last night. My mother hasn’t stopped crying since then, she is desperate. Dammit! That jerk must be laughing at us from hell.”

"Now tell me what you intend to do. Are you going to confess?” He asked in a strangely calm tone, holding his glass in his hands, looking at him with disinterest.

"I can't do it without turning me in," he growled. “I don't want to spend another couple of years in prison for this shit.”

"I'll get you the best lawyer you can afford."

“Lawyer?” he laughed. “They will judge him in fucking Parliament. The House of Lords has already requested the hearing.”

"The House of Lords?" He questioned dumbfounded.

"Yes, Vegeta, the fucking House of Morons. Black had powerful friends and your wife's little play ruined several of their businesses. They aren’t very happy with this; they want his head. My idiot brother doesn't have a decent alibi.”

"They have no evidence against him."

"They have a good reason! With Black and Bardock dead, he keeps everything, property, money and title. What else do they need to condemn him? They already have him in their hands…” He suddenly turned to see him. “You know what this means.”

“I know. At least if it is in the House of Lords I can take my bench and try to make the judgment lean in his favor... But I can’t do much if he has nothing to support his innocence.”

"If my family hadn't been involved in all this I would never think about it, not even for a moment. You know it, right?”

"At this point, does it really matter?"

Raditz smiled and drank his liquor again. His breath reeked of alcohol, but he didn't seem to have reached his limit.

"Having clarified that, can I ask you one last favor?"

"I'm going to jail because of you, and you still want a favor?" He laughed again and swallowed the last sip. “What the hell... What is it?”

"If all this goes to the down... If everything... If your brother has no other way out... When you confess don't involve her. Tell them it was me who killed him.”

"I had the impression that you would ask me that."

"It will be the last thing I’ll ask."

“It seems fair to me. But you know she won't allow you to take all the punishment.”

"Your testimony is all I need to refute what she can say. I have the letter opener in my possession, whatever she says won't help if they think she says it to cover me up. Who would believe that a small woman would have killed him? It’s more credible for all of them that I am the one to blame. And that's how it will be. Tell them that he tried to rape her and I lost control and killed him, it sounds like something I would do...”

"Fits with the alibi you gave to the police... Okay, Vegeta. I'm sorry it had to finish this way.”

“It’s not over yet.”

Raditz stood up and raised his hand to Vegeta, to seal the last deal between the two. Vegeta rose from his chair and squeezed his hand with his gloved hand.

On the way back to the mansion the count deliberated how much or little could happen in the following hours. He hoped Bulma hadn't had any crazy ideas and that Broly was there to stop her in case that happened. He assumed that the trial would start the next morning and if there were no witnesses or evidence, it could end faster than they thought. At least now that he knew that it would take place in Parliament, he would have the opportunity to witness it and take part of it, if it didn’t occur to anyone to question his presence. After all, he had avoided taking part in a long time with little premeditated excuses. Maybe it would look suspicious that he was there, so suddenly. But what else did it matter, if he didn't do it and the trial ended with that poor idiot guilty, Raditz would confess and everything would end up the same. He had to be there and influence the jury using every resource he had at his disposal.

When he pushed the door of the mansion she was there, waiting for him with a different expression. As if she feared that for some reason he wouldn’t return. She stood up and smiled weakly, it was already late and the sun had set.

“How did it go?” she asked quietly, fearing the worst answer, but he smiled pretending to be confident.

"Looks like we have a chance. The trial will take place in the House of Lords, I will take my bench and do my best to get rid of all this once and for all.”

"Do you think it will be enough? What about Raditz?”

"He won't say anything while his brother is found innocent. We have time…”

"Tarble came to tell me that the trial will take place tomorrow first thing. He will be there, and I will accompany him.”

Vegeta saw in her that determined countenance that distinguished her and knew that there would be no way to dissuade her, anyway, he had already advanced to anything she could say. If the worst happens, his and Raditz's testimony would be enough to discredit hers.

"It's all right," he replied deliberately.

"There is something you should know," she said, although she had hesitated to share that information. “Today while opening some wedding presents I found this,” she extended a box she had left on the table and opened it before him. Vegeta looked at the pearl arrangement in front of him and frowned. “You know what it means, right?”

“Who sent it?” He asked, taking it and removing an earring to examine it.

“We don’t know. That's not all, this letter was accompanying the package.” She took the small paper from her pocket and waited for him to read it.

Vegeta didn't seem particularly comfortable and after reading it he crumpled it over his hand and put it in his pocket.

“What was the packaging like?” He asked.

Bulma shrugged.

"A dark paper and a red bow..."

"Tomorrow I'll meet the staff to find out who received it. Maybe that's how we know who left it here. Now don't worry about this, I will get rid of this crap.”

For dinner time, no one could taste a bite, they found it very difficult to overlook the knots that pressed tightly on their stomachs. They had barely punctured their dishes and drank some wine by the time the night came and they both retired to what would be their conjugal room. But there was no reaction from Bulma to learn that she had definitely left her previous employee or partner bedroom, or whatever she was doing there for so long.

Vegeta set his alarm clock and got into the sheets with her and felt her hugging him, snuggling beside him as she had been doing the previous nights in the residence that had sheltered them during their honeymoon.

He deliberately inhaled her perfume and wondered if maybe that would be the last time. If after that night he would end up sleeping in a cell waiting for his sentence. What would it be? Exile? Gallows? Life? What else was it, in the end, it would be worth it if he knew that Bulma had been exempt from her crime. He just needed to know that she would be there, guarded and safe. He realized at that moment that no matter what happened, Bulma was a survivor. If he died, there was nothing on earth that could stop her and even if he didn’t have the joy of watching her grow and marvel a thousand times with the ideas that came out of that picturesque mind, he would know that she would achieve everything she intended, even if she was alone.

The good thing was that she was no longer alone. Now she had her sister and surely Tarble would remain by her side in his absence, trying to give some reason to her craziest ideas. She had that girl he trusted so much, even if he had any luck, she would be pregnant with his son. If Tarble fought his cards and it was a boy, she could keep the county. Who knows, even Bulma could fight to be a widow countess. Everything was possible when it came to her.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked, gently taking him by the chin.

He turned to her unable to share his bitter thoughts and looked into her eyes. She was so tired and worried that light dark bags had formed under her eyes and he had barely noticed. He watched her for an eternal moment, sincerely believing it would be the last and without answering her question, he kissed her. At first sweet and soft as a caress, just touching the velvety skin of her lips.

Bulma hugged him and began to feel his despair under his skin. But it wasn’t the same despair that ran on him the previous weeks, it wasn’t the impatience to have her. It was rather anguish in the form of caresses. Hugging her tight, pressing her against him. He was sad and his chest burned from just thinking that maybe that was the last time. Everything had crumbled once more.

She whispered his name differently, as if she were asking him a question. As if she felt under her skin that something was wrong but she didn't have the words to ask him since she feared his answer. Then she just hugged his broad back when she felt him dragging her under him, kissing her neck and putting his hands under her bedding.

She spread her legs to receive him, beginning to desire him with the same despair as he did. At the mercer of the touch of his cold hands on her skin. Crawling from her waist to her breasts. Biting her where no one could see. Leaving a trail of kisses and saliva down her chest to her belly button, her legs and the inside of each thigh. Touching her intimately until he sees her blush and marvel once more at that congested expression of pleasure.

Bulma's hands took him by the cheeks and dragged him to her again, she wouldn't let him stop kissing her. She tangled her fingers between his black hair and bit his lips gently until she heard him snort under his breath, pressing against her intimacy, letting her feel his arousal.

"I love you," she said suddenly and for the first time.

He stopped and saw again the intense color of her gaze, surprised to have heard those words directed towards him. As if it were incredible, as if it were something he didn't know already.

But he had no words to answer, although he knew in his heart that he felt exactly the same and with more decision than before he kissed her again, as passionately as only he knew. As anxious, desperate, overwhelmed and distraught as he was. And that feeling hurt so much that his chest felt hurt despite how much he wanted her.

Bulma surrounded him with her legs without neglecting the work that her tongue and his were doing, and rocked until she heard him groan hoarsely over her mouth. Then he released the pressure he caused on her breasts with one hand to find that place and make sure she was ready for him. They groaned softly when Vegeta's fingers intruded on the soft folds of Bulma's sex, confirming how excited she was, waiting for him to continue.

Vegeta settled on her and pushed slowly, looking at her with attention to the eyes in each sweet onslaught. Watching attentively how her gesture twisted with pleasure in every touch, in every thrust ever deeper. And he took advantage of her coming and going to touch her there, where he drove her crazy, in the hope of seeing once again those unequivocal gestures of pleasure. He touched her soft and moist texture, leaning on his elbow so as not to miss a moment of that scene.

She loved him? He wondered as he watched her breathing hard, subject to the sensations he gave her with the touch of his fingers.

"More..." she asked urgently in a choppy tone and he had no choice but to obey her orders.

He abandoned her sex and rested his hands between his wife's body, lifted her legs under the covers and increased his pace, watching her shake under his body trying to stay sane. Trying to have control of his breathing and not get carried away by the sea of sensations that pressed him inside and on his skin. Trying to vehemently ignore the heat emanating strongly, throbbing throughout his body. As if it were a bomb that was about to explode.

Bulma held on to his arms, feeling his pressed muscles under her fingers. Touching only the incipient veins that formed on his muscles. She pressed her fingernails against him trying to withstand the force of his thrusts, not understanding how he could cause her so much pleasure.

"More," she ordered again, and the Count felt as if he had said goodbye to his last neuron when he heard her plea.

He leaned against her, hiding his face in the curve of Bulma's neck and took her hips with his hands, sinking his fingers over her flushed white skin. Heeding her orders increased his pace strongly, each lunge deeper and faster, sliding between the moisture of their bodies and perspiration. Bulma hugged his broad back and groaned his name out of breath. Vegeta was breathing heavily on her breasts, exhaling hot air from the bottom of his throat.

He loved her, definitively and unconditionally. He was totally lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little sad, but it's one I like the most. I couldn't take it and I wanted to publish it today even though it the previous one has only a day. I hope you like it as much as I do. There are only 2 chapters left to keep up with the original and I plan to publish 34 on Sunday. I hope I can publish both the original and the translated at the same time. Thank you all for reading and I send you a big hug! I hope we have the next one by tomorrow!


	32. XXXII

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**IN YOUR HANDS**

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Chapter

-XXXII-

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In the morning before breakfast, Vegeta had already gathered all his staff in the hope that someone could recognize the pearl necklace wrapper that had been presented to Bulma. He had the idea that it would be very difficult for anyone to remember exactly who would have taken it to the mansion among so many guests and so many other obligations they had to meet that day. And as expected, there was no response, none was able to remember the person who had given his wife such an inconvenient gift.

Vegeta and Bulma waited for Tarble's carriage to depart to the Parliament together to wait for Goku's trial. The box with the pearls remained on the table, the Count was still unsure of what to do with it, whether to keep it and go through the jewelry stores until he found the person who had bought it or if he should throw it away as it really deserved. He knew he didn't have time to worry about it, much less ask Raditz to do it for him as he would have done at another time. Right now, he had something more important to turn his attention to, but that didn't mean he didn't feel uneasy about that gift that barely seemed its true purpose. He saw nothing but a direct threat to Bulma's integrity.

Not even the huge boy who he paid to take care of his wife welfare had him calm, he felt eyes on himself and didn’t know how to find who was watching so closely.

Bulma stood up and walked to him, who waited impatiently looking out the window for Tarble's arrival. He hadn’t been able to sleep all night and only devoted himself to staying with his wife, thinking of all the possibilities that lurked him minute by minute. He even feared that while he was sleeping Tarble would have decided to betray him, after everything he had done, he wouldn’t be surprised. He had exceeded himself by forcing him to marry and if it had been the other way around, he was sure he would hate him for it. But Tarble was not like him, they were abysmally different.

As he thought, Bulma approached to accommodate the collar of his shirt. He felt the faint tremor of her fingers, almost imperceptible. He took her snowy limb and held it firmly.

"Everything will be fine," he lied.

“How can you be so sure?” she asked trying to decipher his confident gesture.

"I just know. You worry about what will happen to your engine, I'll take care of the rest.”

He released her hand when he saw the carriage arrive on the outskirts of the mansion and let out a sigh when he saw Tights and Jaco accompanying his brother.

"Of course…" said Bulma. “She wasn’t going to miss a public trial.”

As she walked out the door, Tights addressed her sister with such enthusiasm that he had no choice but to pretend a smile again. She couldn't let her know how worried she really was and it would be totally unforgivable for Vegeta to share with her that murky secret that was stalking them.

“This is so exciting!” she said, dragging her toward the carriage. “I would never have dreamed of seeing a trial in Parliament itself. This boy messed with the wrong person. Imagine killing your own brother for an inheritance. What a scandal!”

Tarble approached his brother, his deteriorated appearance spoke a lot about the fateful night that had at the cost of the news he had learned the previous afternoon.

"There was no way to convince her not to come," he whispered to his brother.

"I can imagine it," he replied briefly.

On the way to Parliament his stomach felt like a whirlwind. He hated that feeling, uncertainty was killing him. He wished the hours didn't pass, that the clock stopped magically and he had even thought about taking Bulma and running away from everything. Take all the money at his disposal to go as far as possible to never return. But it was too late and he had the feeling that this action wouldn’t be overlooked for anyone. Raditz would confess anyway and they would search for them everywhere, sea and earth. And he would have nothing left but to live permanently looking over his shoulder.

As they approached Parliament, the streets began to get crowded. As if the possibility that this boy was sentenced to death was cause for joy. There were even more people than those who had attended their wedding. Nothing like a homicide trial to entertain the masses. It seemed a celebration open to all audiences.

All the merchants that belonged to the House of Commons were present, the nobles of the entire city and the most powerful clergymen of the State had gathered to carry out the trial.

When he got out of the carriage, the crowd made itself heard. Vegeta heard terrible shouts from the distance of the citizens crying out for the defendant's public death, as if it were the most anticipated event of the year. People were ready to boo the boy who he knew innocent by the time he arrived.

Broly, who stood by the coachman in front of the horses, got off and escorted Bulma up close. The crowd bellowed, crying out for a worthy show and the assembly looked like a bunch of hungry cannibals. Vegeta took Bulma by the waist and kept her close to him in case any inconvenience were brought before him.

The police were pushing civilians from the doors of Parliament with violence, opening the way for the nobles through the marble stairs of the enormous structure. Tights marveled at the gigantic pillars of the entrance and the moldings that adorned the walls, from the foundations to the last roof tile, observing the sculptures as supernatural creatures that sought to protect the imposing building.

When they reached the last step, a commotion was heard and they turned to see the reason for such a scandal. Fruits flew through the sky from the hand of the common people of the city, from shameless people who believed themselves with moral height to convict the man they didn’t even know. The police car had arrived escorted by dozens of police officers prepared for the coming scandal.

Vegeta felt Bulma shudder under his embrace, squeezing against him horrified by the violent screams and objects that hit the car and the guards indiscriminately.

The car stopped in front of the Parliament and the police escorts surrounded it trying to contain the enraged mass that was rushing against the murderer.

"Behead him!"

“Murderer!”

"Let him rot in Hell!"

The Count heard the roars of the people and held Bulma tightly as they watched the poor bastard coming out of the car with difficulty, dragged with little delicacy towards public scrutiny. Somehow, he imagined himself instead, understanding what would happen to him if that trial went the worst way. But it was something he could bear, what he couldn't deal with without losing his sanity would be for Bulma to go through such outrage.

The boy fell on his knees and received a blow to the stomach by a guard to stand up. His hands were cuffed behind his back and, between two, he was raised awkwardly until he managed to stand up. Something flew through the skies between screams and hit him in the face, staining him to his shirt, leaving a red trail down his cheek to his chest and part of his pants. The police officers stood between him and the furious crowd that seemed capable of giving him his sentence at that moment. Desperate for his murder.

With his head down, he climbed the steps, stumbling from time to time when being dragged and apparently lacking in strength. Seeing him up close, Vegeta imagined that the police had taken care of giving him a punishment before his trial. His face was badly wounded and his clothes battered. A few scratches on his face and probably under his dirty shirt, his torso would be full of bruises.

Goku looked up at the doors of the Parliament and recognized Bulma's familiar face. Far from what she thought she would feel when she saw him again, because of his face so terribly similar to Black's, Bulma felt a deep sorrow on her stomach. Drowning in guilt for just seeing the misery that she had caused him.

What she didn't expect to see was his smile. Goku smiled at her as he recognized her, as if he weren’t aware of the terrible state he was in, as if he had forgotten what had brought him to such sinister circumstances and was really happy to see her again.

She couldn't smile, rather she felt she was going to cry from such guilt. She looked down and felt Vegeta begin to walk to enter the building.

"Quick," he said when he saw that the crowd would end up knocking down the police to reach the boy who was so dangerously close to them.

More objects flew, hitting clergymen and nobles who ran to enter the Parliament along with Vegeta and company. Once inside the huge enclosure, the screams felt distant, bouncing like an echo inside the chamber. Rotten food flew through the doors carelessly falling on the marble floors until finally the police managed to get around that dismal journey, leaving the crowd behind.

"This is terrible," Bulma muttered when she saw Goku's deplorable state, clinging to her husband's clothes.

"Poor boy," Tights snapped. “He may be a murderer, but this is too much...”

"I think he has what he deserves," Jaco commented, crossing his arms with a selfless look. “It's what happens when you break the laws. Killing a noble is a very serious crime.”

"It's not the crowd that must determine whether he is guilty or not," Tarble interrupted. “That's what this trial is for, they shouldn't punish him before he receives his verdict...”

His brother listened to his words carefully. He knew that he hoped they would find him innocent to end that horrendous chapter in which he had ended up being a part. But Vegeta wondered how much more he would endure, if it wasn’t Raditz, probably Tarble couldn’t bear the immense guilt of condemning an innocent, especially if he ended up receiving a death sentence. He knew he couldn't carry something like that, not even for his sake or Bulma's.

Vegeta was silent while the boy was dragged down the hall with arrogance and when he looked up he met Raditz's gaze. He stroked a woman who didn’t stop crying on his shoulder, he hadn’t met her personally, but he imagined that she would be his mother. He felt his gaze and looked up to find him and internally waited for him to be able to fulfill his last promise. Even if he knew that Raditz had no reason to do anything he asked. He wasn’t going to receive a better sentence for not involving Bulma and perhaps he was being forced to blindly trust the camaraderie he had denied existed between them. What other remedy did he have left? Bulma's safety was at stake.

They then walked to the House of Lords where a gigantic room, surrounded by seats for each of its members and a small portion of the room for a select group of spectators, was waiting for them. Bulma sat in the third row and reluctantly let Vegeta go to join the rest of Lords. However, from her seat she could see each one of them perfectly, arranged in bleachers as if it were an auditorium. In the middle of the room against the wall opposite the gigantic oak doors of the entrance, lay the Judge's enclosure, in a tall structure with a place at its side destined for his secretary.

Little by little the room was filling, on the one hand; nobles occupying their benches, on the other; the highest clergymen taking their benches, until the room was completely filled and the doors echoed in the enclosure upon closing.

Bulma turned to hear a sob and met the overwhelmed face of Raditz's mother as he stroked her back weakly. She had seen her before, that day when Vegeta had been interrogated along with Goku. She turned again, unable to see the pain she had caused to that family. Embarrassed for still hiding the truth for saving her own skin.

The murmurs that were heard around the premises ceased when the defendant made his entrance, always dragged by a couple of police officers and still with his hands cuffed behind his back. Walking painfully towards the center of the room in which he would be judged. Behind him was his lawyer, one of the buffet members representing Vegeta's family, who he had probably sent after his short meeting with Raditz.

The public was silent when another door echoed and a man announced the entrance of the Honorable Judge to stand up. Once he took a seat and next to him his secretary, the Judge took his mallet and echoed in the room so that the rest returned to take a seat.

"The session is declared open," the Judge declared in a tone loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. “Accused, stand up.”

Goku and the judge's assistant got up, the last one adjusting his glasses to read the document he was holding.

"Son Goku, in the case of Son against the State, you are here accused of the murder charge aggravated by bond and the crime of cover-up, for the murder of Baron Black.”

“How do you declare yourself?” Asked the Judge.

"Innocent, your honor."

The murmurs of those present were heard, elated to see the boy with the audacity to still declare himself innocent of these charges. The judge took his mallet once more and made it sound vehemently, causing everyone to remain silent immediately.

“You are informed that you have the right not to testify against yourself and not to confess guilt. If you decide to testify, you must answer the questions of the prosecution and the members of the House of Lords.”

"My client has decided to give his statement, your Honor," said the lawyer.

The assistant approached him extending a bible in his hands, Goku placed his right hand on the lid and looked up at the Judge.

"Do you swear to tell the truth and nothing but the truth?"

“I swear.”

From his seat, Vegeta noticed the overwhelmed countenance of the lawyer and for some reason he felt that he had tried to dissuade him from his statement. Uncomfortable, he waited while he saw him being taken to the dais in the middle of the chamber to expose himself to the sight of everyone present.

Tarble felt his stomach turning, overwhelmed by the truth he had in his hands and with his heart about to explode from the pressure. He turned slightly to see Bulma, watched her swallow and saw a drop of sweat slip down her neck. Her face frowned; hands clenched on her skirt. He didn’t really know what his duty was in that situation and decided to wait to see how the trial unfolded. He turned to the dirty boy in the middle of the room and watched the prosecutor walking around him.

“On the morning of May 25 of this year you were legally recognized as the son of Marquis Bardock. Is it true?”

“Yes.”

"The procedure was rushed; it took less than a month..." the prosecutor commented as he leafed through some documents that after a ceremonial walk, he ended up leaving on the Judge's table for examination. “Do you know why your father was so eager to recognize you as his legitimate son?”

"My father was seriously ill, he wanted to recognize me before he died."

"It is stated in your father's will that Baron Black would inherit his title and property and you only a family allowance. Were you aware of it?”

“Yes, I was.”

"But that's not enough to support your family and your lover, isn't it?"

“Objection!” His lawyer bellowed.

“Overrule. Prosecutor, rephrase your question.”

"Yes, your honor. Son Goku, you work together with your mother in a butcher shop, or am I wrong?”

“Yes, sir.”

"Does that cover your expenses?"

"It's been a few complicated months for my family, but recently we could make enough money at Count Vegeta's wedding," he replied with a smile and turned to see him.

Vegeta felt the eyes of the rest on him, even the prosecutor had turned astonished. The Count clenched his fists and thought of an expletive for that poor bastard who had exposed him without realizing it. Bulma wrinkled the skirt of her dress, shivering at the innocent clumsiness she had committed in doing that little favor to Raditz in order to squander Vegeta's money.

"With that we have been able to cover several debts, he is a very generous man," Goku finished.

"He certainly is," said the prosecutor, clearing his throat. “But I understand that the Count's wedding was held just a few weeks ago. How did you plan to cover your expenses before that time?”

Vegeta sighed in relief when he noticed that the Prosecutor had diverted the conversation, but continued with a strange feeling about him. Feeling again an indiscreet look penetrating him. He turned toward some seats lower in the stands and noticed how someone turned to look away from him. His white hair was impossible to miss, Zamas had him in his sights. He tried not to pay too much attention, although he had managed to bother him terribly. He turned his gaze to the prosecutor wandering around the camera, looking at the members as he continued his interrogation.

"At that time his family was going through their worst moment, economically speaking. We have at our disposal the financial notebooks of the butcher shop and they could barely cover their taxes.”

At that time Raditz thanked his mother for being so suspicious of the money he constantly offered to cover her business expenses. He had tried to pay for the services of her house on countless occasions, but she had always rejected him knowing that money didn’t come from any honest place and preferred to subsist on how little the butcher shop left her. If she had done so, now he would be seeing himself in a terrible mess that he wouldn’t know how to get out unharmed.

"For someone in your position, your father's money must have been very tempting."

“Objection!” Goku's lawyer repeated again. “My client cannot testify about guesses.”

"Overruled," the Judge repeated.

“My apologies. Mr. Goku, how did you plan to get out of this financial crisis?”

"I honestly hadn't planned it," he replied with a sincere smile. “My mother has been able to get the shop forward for many years without anyone's help and I assumed that we would get out of trouble as usual.”

The prosecutor was silent and heard slight murmurs in the courtroom. The boy's response was far from satisfying them. He smiled and raised an eyebrow, pleased to have begun to question his testimony.

"I understand that there was an altercation between you and the Baron the day you were recognized as Bardock's legitimate son."

“Yes...”

"Could you tell us what happened that afternoon?"

"Well... We had just received the notary's papers when he arrived."

“Was he alone?”

“No. He was accompanied by his partner.”

"The viscount, Zamasu."

“Yes.”

“What happened after?”

"Black was kind of upset... He argued with my father and I had to get in between them."

“Kind of upset? What exactly did the baron say to give you the impression of being upset?

He sighed, remembering that afternoon.

"He told our father that he was… an idiot. That he had dishonored his family, that he was humiliating him.”

"And what happened so that you decided to interpose between them?"

"He took him by the shirt and threatened him."

"What was his threat?"

"He told him that if he didn't die soon, he would kill him himself."

"How did you feel after hearing him?"

"You don't have to answer that," his lawyer told him, but Goku ignored him.

"I was upset, my father was sick and it didn't seem right to treat him that way."

"And what did you do next?"

"I pushed him and he fell to the ground."

"And he retired?"

"No, he got up and tried to hit me."

"Didn't you hit him?"

"No, I dodged it before he did."

"Just dodged it?"

"I hit him in the stomach."

The prosecutor turned to see the crowd.

"Those who have not been lucky enough to see the baron may not know his skill. But his awards speak for him, he has received countless awards in all kinds of disciplines. It is surprising to me to believe that this boy without experience or training could dodge such a blow from the baron with such ease and it seems even more exceptional that he could hit him. Mr. Goku, do you consider yourself to be stronger than Baron Black?”

"I don't know, I never had the opportunity to measure strength with him."

"Don't you think that occasion was enough to know?"

"Of course not, Black wasn't in a position to fight me."

“Why do you think that?”

"I got the impression he had been drinking."

"Did you see him drinking?"

“No, I didn’t…”

"Then you don't know for sure."

“I think not.”

"After hitting the Baron and hearing him threaten your father, what happened?"

"His partner, Mr. Zamasu, asked him to leave."

"What were the Baron's last words before leaving?"

"My client doesn't have to answer that question," the lawyer shouted, but again Goku ignored him.

"I have nothing to hide," he replied without abandoning his unconcerned countenance. “He told me... I would rot in hell and he swore I wouldn't see a penny, even if it cost him his life.”

Vegeta stroked his forehead, that idiot wasn’t doing himself any favor. If he kept talking that way there would be no way to convince the lords that he was innocent. The best thing would have been for him not to give his statement, as his lawyer would probably have recommended, but apparently, he was so convinced of his innocence that he revealed every detail without being aware of the weight of his words. The Count looked at Bulma at the corner of his eyes, she looked so worried that she would probably be thinking the same as him. At her side Tarble wiped his forehead with a handkerchief and behind them Raditz stroked his forehead, seemed about to get up to hit his brother.

"Damn you idiot," Vegeta thought as he listened.

"Then the Baron not only threatened your father that afternoon, but also yourself. Where did you go after that?”

He smiled reluctantly and lowered his head.

"I can't tell you that."

“Why?”

"My client has decided not to answer that question," said the lawyer quickly.

"Do you have another question, Prosecutor?" Asked the Judge.

"One last question, your honor. Mr. Goku, do you have an affair with the daughter of Marquis Ox?”

"Objection, your honor!"

"My daughter has no love affairs with that man!" Shouted the aforementioned from his bench, standing up between the lords beside him.

His imposing voice echoed in the chamber and those present turned to see the big man who was shouting indignantly. The mallet rang loudly in the room.

“Order!” Said the judge, standing up. “I will not allow you to make a circus of my court! Marquis, if you interrupt again, I will accuse you of contempt.”

"No more questions, your Honor," the prosecutor said, bowing slightly and retired to his seat.

"Your witness, lawyer."

The lawyer stood up and adjusted his suit. He turned to see the faces of those present and then that of his client. He wandered for a moment, hoping that his interrogation would serve as something to counteract the terrible answers he had given a few moments ago and were still fresh in the minds of the lords.

"Mr. Goku, do you consider yourself an honest person?"

"I suppose so, sir."

"For your entire life you had only lived on your mother's income and the extra money that your father gave you from time to time, isn't it?"

“Yes, sir.”

"Tell me, did you ask your father for that money?"

“No, sir.”

"You were the one who started the relationship with your father?"

“No, sir. He went to see my mother and me when I was little.”

"You asked him to legally recognize you?"

“No, sir.”

"Then it was all at his insistence. The money, the visits, the legalization of your last name and the allowance that you’ll get in his inheritance. Isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

"What did you do with the money your father gave you?"

"I helped my mother with the butcher shop."

"Didn't you spend the money on yourself? Clothing? Jewelry?”

"I don't have much interest in those things."

"Did you have any resentment for your half-brother, Baron Black?"

“None.”

"Didn't it affect you that he was going to keep you father's inheritance?"

"Not really," he said, shrugging his shoulders. “I don't think my mother would have been comfortable with me receiving his inheritance, she is a very correct woman.”

"Apparently you mother has taught you principles."

He nodded with a smile and turned to see her.

"She’s a good woman."

"Mr. Goku, why did you agree to be legitimized by your father if you had no interest in his inheritance?"

“It was his last wish.”

“I get it. No more questions, your honor.”

The judge cleared his throat while the lawyer sat down again.

“If any of the honorable members of the House of Lords has a question for the defendant, you can take this moment ask.”

One of the priests stood up, cleared his throat, frowned at the accused. Those present observed him and the Judge nodded, giving him the floor.

"Why didn't you report the baron's threats to the police that same afternoon? It seems that you had taken it too lightly. Any other would have reported feeling threatened, even your own father. Did you want to take matters into his own hands?”

"I just didn't take it very seriously," he replied and laughed.

Those present were horrified to hear his laughter echoing between the walls. Unable to understand that the work of the court could be taken gracefully. But Vegeta quickly stood up, taking away the focus of attention and took the floor.

"Didn't Black seem dangerous to you?" He asked intrigued.

“Not at all. I understand that he was upset, but I don't think he was capable to do anything to me or our father. Surely if we could have had the chance to speak things alone, he would have understood. We could even have been good friends.”

Vegeta was stunned, unable to understand that he could be so naive about Black's threats. Perhaps, had he not found Bulma that day, he would have taken care of his half-brother by his own hands and he wouldn't even have suspected it. That boy was undoubtedly as strange as his half-brother, but in a totally different way. It couldn't be possible that he didn't really realize how dangerous Black was, and everything he was capable of.

The count took a seat, still incredulous of that answer that, despite sounding sincere, seemed simply stupid. The boy was an idiot, without a doubt. But he was surprised that he could match Black's forces even while drunk as he had described. He wasn’t so easy to tear down, as the prosecutor had described, he had faced him countless times.

"If there are no more questions, let the next witness go forward."

A fifty-year-old gentleman, dressed in an ocher three-piece suit and gray hair, stood among the small crowd that accompanied Bulma and walked to the dais. He repeated the same procedure as Goku, vowing to say in his testimony nothing but the truth and proceeded to take a seat. Bulma heard his name, but he didn't look familiar and remained intrigued about the information he would have to share with the court.

“What is your profession?” Asked the prosecutor.

"Public notary, sir."

“You carried out the process of legitimation of the accused, correct?”

“Right.”

"Were you present the day the altercation between the baron and the accused occurred?"

"Yes, I was there that afternoon."

"Could you explain exactly what happened?"

“It was a very violent event; I’m not used to that kind of thing… Everything happened very fast and it was quite a long time ago… But I do remember hearing Baron's Black threats. I honestly don't think he meant it. The baron has always been a very correct man, very polite and pleasant. I don't think he had problems with anyone, that I was aware of...

“Objection. Your Honor, the witness is not answering the question.”

"Please answer the prosecutor's question."

"Well, when the process was over and I handed Mr. Goku his new documents and we were heading to the exit, it was when the baron appeared, very shocked by the news. As they described it... He said to his father some unfortunate words and took him by the slap to demand an explanation. But the defendant got in the way and pushed him violently up the street and then hit him. The poor boy ran out of air and the viscount helped him before they could continue.”

"Did Bardock ever explained why he wanted to recognize his illegitimate son?"

"He told me his mother was going through a bad time and wanted to help them financially. That is why he insisted so much on speeding up the process since he felt his death very close... It was a sad fact.”

"Have you met the defendant before that?"

"Very little, I only saw him on a couple of occasions when we needed his signature to continue the paperwork."

"What do you think of him?"

The gentleman was silent for a moment and looked at the young man for a moment, frowned his brows together in a wrinkled gesture and looked back at the prosecutor.

"He's a strange boy, too carefree for someone in his situation. I think we are all witnesses of it.”

"Has there been anything in his behavior that makes you think you he is dangerous person?"

"I really don't know what to think of him, what I can tell you is that he's a very strong lad. He pushed the baron several feet away and I never saw someone who was able to do that to him.”

"No more questions, your honor."

Vegeta listened carefully to the statement, it was clear to him that at that point the only thing they would have in his favor would be the idea that Goku was a danger and that his personality was only hiding something else, under a strange trail of innocence, possibly fake. And perhaps that would be enough to condemn him, if they hadn’t done so even before hearing his testimony. The only thing that the notary could bring with his testimony was to strengthen that idea, the possible threat of an indecipherable personality and reaffirm the impeccable image that Black had among the rest of the nobles.

By the time the prosecutor terminated his interrogation and the defense lawyer stood up, it seemed that all the members of the chamber had already made their decision. It wasn’t enough for the accused to insist on his detachment for material objects to really believe it, how could a socially well-off group understand such an altruistic concept?

The defense lawyer stood up and with the permission of the judge began his interrogation.

"Do you think the defendant reacted with violence?"

"Of course, it was a matter that could have been discussed among gentlemen."

"However, he wasn’t the one who threw the first blow, right?"

"Uhm... Well no, but..."

"I mean that Baron Black attacked my client, isn't it?"

"Yes, but...”

"And my client was forced to respond to his attack, otherwise he would have been seriously injured. Didn't you say that the baron was a person with a lot of physical skill?”

"Well... Yes, he was."

"In that case, what my client did was not to attack the baron, but rather it was an act in self-defense and in the defense of a person who was suffering from a terminal illness," he said, slowly scrolling through the camera and then stopping. “Do you think the baron was someone violent?”

"Of course not, he was a gentleman."

"Aren't you aware of what happened in the last masquerade. The baron was arrested by the police for an altercation with a member of this chamber, as honorable as himself. You didn’t know that?”

"Objection," said the prosecutor. “The witness wasn’t present to give his testimony.”

“Lawyer, do you have more questions?”

"No, your honor."

Little time passed for the officer in charge of the investigation to give his testimony, providing only the date on which Zamasu had appeared before the police station to report Black's disappearance, then described the place where his body had been found and he described that, whoever killed the baron, would probably be a very strong person, since the body not only measured more than 5,5 feet, but also weighed at least 70 kilograms. Unfortunately, since the site where he had been buried was uninhabited at that time, there were no witnesses who could report suspicious behavior at that time.

Then he was followed by a coroner who had received Black's body, giving a description of the murderous weapon, which he had described as a small dagger or a letter opener, because of the characteristics of the wound that had been fatal to the baron. He described several scratches on his torso, a clear sign of a struggle prior to his death. If they had found their body before they could have examined under the nails of the suspects or even their fingers for evidence that linked them, but given the circumstances would be impossible. The only thing they managed to find in his body were small fibers of red cloth, which had probably been used like some kind of mantle to cover his body. In short, little concrete evidence could be collected from the scene.

"If the camera has no further questions, the next witness will be called to the state." He looked at the document that lay on his desk and with his finger drew an invisible line over the names noted there. “Count Ouji Vegeta take the stand.”

Bulma ran out of breath when she heard his name and turned to Tarble alertly about to ask if he knew anything about it, but found the same horrified expression in him. Tarble had no idea. She wrinkled her skirt and looked at Vegeta and noticed the same surprise in his appearance, but he kept his composure and stood up leaving his bench, walked to the dais and sat down. He felt his chest burn and glances fell on him like arrows, his heart rumbled over his chest, but he struggled to keep himself calm. He knew perfectly well what they could ask him, although he didn’t feel fully prepared to face this interrogation.

"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth?"

"I swear," he lied without inconvenience.

"Lord Vegeta," the prosecutor began. “Do you remember what happened during the night of the masquerade mentioned by the defense lawyer?”

“I remember.”

"Could you tell us why this altercation occurred?"

Vegeta looked at those present and thought for a moment in his response. Those who had heard something could refute his testimony and end up using it against him. If anyone had seen Bulma with Black it would be his downfall.

"We had a misunderstanding."

“What was that misunderstanding about?”

"The baron made an improper hint at my current wife," he replied to the surprise of everyone present.

Bulma would never have expected him to answer that question with such naturalness and she feared that Vegeta was burying himself.

“The Baron?” the prosecutor reiterated confused.

“Yes.”

"Uhm... well. Did you start the fight?”

“Of course. It was disrespectful and although it wasn’t the place or the moment. I think any other gentleman would have reacted in the same way.”

"But she wasn't your wife at the time."

"No, she wasn't, but Black knew my intentions," he lied. “As I know that many will know she has been living in my mansion shortly after her parents died. His indiscretion seemed unforgivable to me.”

Clearly, the prosecutor's intention was to discredit the idea that Black could be someone violent and taking advantage of the count's poor reputation. Vegeta knew that he would try to erase that single violent act by attributing it to him and thus exalt Black's figure. But the only way to stain his image was to be honest, more or less.

"No more questions, your honor."

Goku's lawyer smiled and confidently got up to address Vegeta.

"Sir, did you know the baron well?"

"I knew him many years ago, yes."

"Do you think it was someone who could have enemies?"

"He was a businessman; I know that some of those business didn’t go as he expected and that could give enemies to anyone."

"Was he particularly violent?"

"I suppose so, it took me a couple of weeks to recover completely from that fight."

"You threw the first blow?"

“Yes.”

"You felt disrespected."

“Of course I did.”

"How did the fight end?"

"The police separated us."

"Clearly the baron wasn’t a man of irreproachable reputation. What did you think of him?”

Vegeta crossed his arms and feared for a moment the consequences that his honesty would bring.

"Black was the kind of man who doesn't stop until he gets what he wants. No matter what or who.”

"No more questions, your honor."

Bulma let out a sigh when she heard that the interrogation was over, however, a particular member of the House of Lords, stud up. Horrified, she watched Zamasu take the floor and noticed in him a sour expression.

"Count Ouji," he began. “Where were you the night Black disappeared?”

The murmurs inside the chamber rang out, alarmed by Zamasu’s insinuation. Bulma stood up ready to reproach him and Tarble stopped her, holding her by the shoulder.

"I have already given my statement to the police, Zamasu," he replied, barely able to control himself against the obvious accusation.

"Viscount," said the Judge. “Count Ouji has already been interrogated properly and his statement has already been corroborated by the police regarding the disappearance of the baron. We are not here to prosecute him. If you don’t have another question for the witness, take a seat and we will continue with the next one.”

“What is the problem? Can't you answer a simple question? The count has as many reasons to have killed Black as this poor idiot we prosecuted. Most likely, both have conspired to kill him. He should be handcuffed right now!”

“Enough! This is my last warning. Either be silent or you will be removed by the guards.”

"I can't believe he's sitting on the dais making fun of all of us! He has always hated Black! He and his stupid wife!”

Unable to control his temper, Vegeta stood up feeling an intense burning on the palm of his hands. Willing to travel the space that separated them to keep silent forcibly. Seeing his clear intentions, several of those present stood up in shock and the judge's hammer echoed around the compound.

“Guards! Take him! Viscount, you are accused of contempt and may not continue to be part of the jury for the remainder of the trial.”

The officers soon followed the judge's orders. They approached him breaking through the stands and Zamas seemed incredulous to what his eyes were watching. His face flushed and furious, his hands clenched in two fists. An officer placed a hand on his shoulder and he quickly shook his gesture. Another appeared from the other side, pulling a pair of handcuffs from his belt and Zamasu indignantly raised his voice again.

"You are all a bunch of morons! You have done nothing but fall into their lies, they both killed him! Open your eyes!”

Trying to avoid the scandal, the guards handcuffed the viscount and dragged him quickly to the exit.

"Research his alibi again! I demand you do it!”

The screams stopped once the door closed behind him, but the awkward feeling that had been generated didn’t dissipate so easily. The glances wandered from the door to the count, some very obvious and as incriminating as Zamas's, others less shameless and a little condescending.

Vegeta, who was still sitting on the dais, felt his blood boil inside his body and the throbbing furiously over his chest couldn’t calm down. He fixed his contemptuous gaze on the eyes that required them throughout the enclosure and gradually vanished, unable to withstand his angry way of looking.

Bulma and Tarble seemed equally shocked. And as he wiped the sweat off his forehead again and tried to recover the breath, he had lost without realizing it. Bulma's hands trembled, clenched on her skirt. Suddenly Tights's hand landed on hers and she looked up to see her. She gave her a soft smile and squeezed her trembling hand under her firm one. Trying to reassure her.

With no choice but to feign calm again, Bulma let out a small sigh, barely relieved by Zamas's absence in the House of Lords.

"Count, you can go back to your seat and have the next witness come forward."

There was no case in trying to hide how disturbed he was. All the effort he had put into staining Black's impolute image had been overshadowed by Zamas' terrible accusations. And worse, he felt terribly framed. He had even mentioned Bulma in that mess, which could make his situation worse if the jury found Goku guilty and Raditz ended up confessing. The landscape felt increasingly darker, so disastrous that it seemed that everything would end worse than he expected.

He walked to his place and took a seat, the reproving looks he received on the road didn’t go unnoticed and while he returned to his chair, he had no doubt that Zamas was involved in any of the previous events. If he hadn’t been responsible for his accident at the equestrian meeting, he certainly was for those jewels that had been given to Bulma.

The doors of the chamber opened, taking him out of his reverie. Bulma took a breath and when she turned around, she immediately recognized the witness who was walking firmly to the dais. Milk was going to give her statement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JUST ONE TO GO AND WE WILL BE EVEN. OMG I'M SO HAPPY.   
> I don't really care that much that I don't get too many comments because I uploaded 3 chapters in 2 days. I'm just happy to be able to share my work with you all. I really love this story, and I love learning so much about your lenguage. Thank you again for reading this story. The is just one chapter left. Well, 34 is ready but I'll wait til sunday to upload both at the same time.   
> Also, I'm starting to write another story. Another vegebul. It's a AU, a medieval fantasy fic. I you want me to I can translate that one as well. Let me know!


	33. Chapter XXXIII

* * *

**IN YOR HANDS**

* * *

 

Chapter

-XXXIII-

* * *

 

The silence gained weight among those present. The girl walked with her chin up to the stage and on the way she turned just a moment to Goku. Her serious and severe gesture broke momentarily when she saw his terrible state. She noticed his swollen eye and the spots on his clothes, his candid and tender smile failed to extinguish the terrible sensation that was overwhelming her. Instinctively, she brought a hand to her belly and continued walking and as if she could gather strength from some unknown place, raising her face again and regaining courage.

On the other side of the room, Bulma watched her with some shared grief imagining how she would feel being in her place. Thinking about the sea of emotions that would flood her if it was she who was waiting for a child and with him prosecuted; with Vegeta accused of a crime he had not committed.

She hadn’t stopped shaking since all that spectacle had begun, and the more she struggled to retain that sensation on her body, the more she felt that earthquake under her skin, bristling every hair on her pale arms.

She looked up and looked at Vegeta, imagining how awkward he really should feel after he fell victim to Zamas's terrible accusations, even though he now had the same stoic expression that always accompanied him.

Beside her, Tarble seemed about to pass out. He was pale, terribly pale, although his skin was slightly brown. His worried frown was evident, as was the heavy sweat on his forehead. For a moment she feared he could stand up and finally confess everything he knew, but for some reason he was still sitting, as if fighting against himself there, without anyone knowing.

Bulma turned her eyes to the front when Milk finally sat down and closed her eyes, begging that what she had to say could finally free Goku from that punishment he certainly didn't deserve. But, within her, fear was reborn. After what Zamas had said, if Goku was released, it wouldn’t take long for them to go after Vegeta for justice. And if so, she couldn’t let him carry that sentence, no matter how much she wanted to get rid of her crime.

The brunette who had made her entry into the House of Lords laid her hand on the bible as all those interrogated had done, swear to tell the truth and Bulma found in the tone of her voice a certain fierceness that she hadn’t heard until then. The last time she had seen her had been the day that the police had taken Goku to question him and ended up at the door of the mansion, crying uncontrollably and so shocked that she could barely speak. Now she seemed more severe, both in her tone and in her way of looking, with a frown and tight lips. Her voice was heard throughout the chamber, with strength and firmness.

The prosecutor wandered from side to side and Milk didn’t take her eyes off him at any time. When he finally decided to start, she seemed ready to respond, as if she had been practicing for hours what she was going to say.

"Miss Ox, what exactly is your relationship with the defendant?"

Milk cleared her throat and looked at Goku for the last time before answering. She had been keeping that secret for so long that it had already lost its propouse. And she had lost her fear of the repudiation she would receive when she confessed. She stroked her belly under her cloak and looked up without looking at anyone in particular, knowing the fuss it would cause and that her father was watching her at that moment.

"He is the father of my son."

The room was wrapped in sounds of amazement, the squeak of some chairs and a couple of confused voices. Bulma heard a voice in the seats behind her. Raditz's mother had still stood with a handkerchief in her hand and looked at the girl sitting away from her, completely amazed. Raditz asked her to take a seat and even pulled her arm asking her not to make a scene, he already knew about the girl's pregnancy for some time, but it was a secret that Gine had no idea of.

The prosecutor was stunned, it wasn’t the answer he expected. But, in spite of his astonishment, he tried to direct his interrogation again and cleared his throat to turn again to the woman on the stage.

"Are you pregnant?"

“Yes I am.”

Milk's father stood up with an impaired face and before he could say anything the Judge's hammer rumbled loudly on his desk.

"I warned you, do nothing stupid or you will accompany the viscount to his cell."

Reluctantly he sat down again with an obfuscated face and a vein throbbing hard on his forehead. When he returned to take place on his bench, attention returned to focus completely on that girl.

"How many months are you?"

"About three months."

The prosecutor scratched his beard and thought for a moment. He looked at Goku from the corner of his eye and then at the chamber members who watched everything with clinical attention. Then he examined Milk again and without modifying his grim expression, he continued.

“This is… something unexpected, I must confess. But, for a woman in your position, from a good family, with a considerable dowry... Well, I guess you know it’s not the best situation for you. A single woman waiting for a bastard son, the son of a butcher...”

"I’m not a single woman," she interrupted to the amazement of those present. “Goku and I married in secret. The ceremony was held in a small nearby town, the night Black disappeared.”

The scandalized voices of the nobles and clerics flooded the room, incredulous, skeptical about that testimony. A few stood up screaming their complaints, raising their hands in suspicious, annoyed gestures.

Bulma observed the stir that had caused her confession and immediately understood that, despite the fact that Milk was telling the truth, there was no way they would believe her. They had already convicted Goku before arriving and for half of the trial probably also Vegeta.

“She’s lying!”

“How convenient!”

"She's covering it up!"

The mallet rang louder than before and with it, all the voices went out. They returned reluctantly to their seats while the Judge stroked his forehead, overwhelmed and exasperated at the insolence of his own court. His wrinkled face turned severe and he turned to Milk directly, looked into the dark eyes of the young girl and looked sideways at her abdomen, noticing for the first time the light lump that barely peeked under her clothes.

"You have sworn to tell the truth and nothing but the truth to this court," he said in an inflexible tone, "if you are lying, you will receive a penalty for it."

“I'm not lying. My father didn’t allow me to marry him when he asked for my hand. We had no choice but to flee to get married... I didn’t want to have this child being single...”

"Prosecutor, resume your interrogation," he said finally. “And I will not allow any further interruptions during the rest of the trial, if someone else even gets up from his seat without my permission, will be charged with contempt, and that applies to each member of this House.”

The prosecutor wasn’t prepared to deal with that defense, but he knew that the members of the Chamber didn’t trust that testimony at all and ended up smiling.

“As some of the members of this chamber have pointed out… It is quite convenient that the day in which the Baron disappeared was the day you chose to marry in secret. Why did you choose that day?”

"Well... We had been thinking about it a lot and after knowing that I was expecting a child of his, we decided that we had no reason to waste time."

"I suppose your father didn’t agree that his daughter marry an ordinary boy, didn't he?"

"Yes... My father wanted me to marry someone with a title."

“What any father in his position would want, it’s not strange that he expected a marriage according to the status of his daughter. But at that time, when this boy…” he said, turning to Goku, “when the defendant asked for your hand he had no title, no inheritance to meet your father's expectations, didn't he?”

“No…”

"Then, wouldn't it have been perfect for you that the Baron wasn’t on the scene, after the defendant was legally recognized as Bardock's legitimate son, and thus claim not only the inheritance but also his title? That way your father would have no objection to this marriage and wouldn’t be in need of marrying in a furtive ceremony.”

“It wasn’t so! We didn't even know he was dead when we got married.”

"Is there anyone else who can corroborate your testimony?"

"Well... No..." she deliberated for a moment and then looked up for his face. Bulma's gaze faced directly at Milk's. “Bulma is the only person who knew I was pregnant. I talked to her before deciding to get married.”

The eyes of those present turned to the girl sitting among the select group of spectators. But it didn't take long to return their attention to the witness.

"The Count's wife..." the lawyer added.

"Yes, I confided her with my secret... in confidence."

"So, to summarize... You are the only person with whom the defendant spent the hours following the disappearance of the Baron, and no one but you was part of this discreet ceremony."

"Yes, but you have to believe me, I would never lie about it!"

"There are no witnesses other than the same defendant and the mother of his son, they married in a secret ceremony in a town without anyone knowing... I must emphasize how extremely convenient everything sounds," the prosecutor paused and watched for a slight instant Milk’s countenance. “No more questions, your honor.”

Milk had crouched on the stand, exalted by the conjectures the prosecutor had reached, somehow hinting that she had something to do with Black's disappearance or that she would be covering it up to save Goku.

"Miss, why didn't you confess to your father that you were pregnant with my client?" Asked the defense lawyer.

"He wasn't going to accept it...”

"You feared your reputation would suffer at the expense of it, didn't you?"

“Yes…”

"However, you knew beforehand that my client, Mr. Goku, didn’t possess titles or a great fortune when you met him."

“I did.”

"Why did you choose a man like him? I’m sure that you had other suitors much more adequate than my client, wealthier, in a better position and that could guarantee you a better life.”

She turned to Goku after seeing him smile at her in a way that only he knew, a small grin curled her lips that were firmly pressed during her testimony.

"I chose him because he’s different, he’s honest and has a good heart. I had never met anyone like him. Even if he couldn't give me a life full of luxuries, I know that he would be a good husband and a better father for our son.”

"My client isn’t interested in material goods, isn't he?"

"That's right, he's very... simple."

"Did the marriage proposal come before or after you knew you were pregnant?"

"It was before... I think a month before I realized I was expecting a child from him."

"Then it was out of the question that my client would receive a title at that time. If her father had accepted, they would have married.”

"We don't need a title; we could have lived with my dowry until the situation with Goku and his family improved. If what you want is for Goku to give up his father's title to show that he doesn't care, I'm sure he will, my Goku doesn't care about those things!”

"Apparently either do you, otherwise you wouldn’t have chosen my client as a husband, who... as this court has well established, practically doesn’t have a penny... Can you tell us what kind of relationship Black and Goku had? Did he ever mention that he had any resentment against his half-brother?”

“Never! Goku is incapable, he is the best person I know. He doesn't have that kind of feelings... I'm sure that if he had the opportunity, he would have tried to convince him to allow his father to carry out his last wish in peace. He's that kind of person, but I guess you wouldn't understand.”

"What do you mean?"

“Isn’t it obvious? They are sitting here, judging him only by his economic condition. You haven’t even been given him the opportunity to receive a fair trial! Just because he’s poor doesn’t mean he’s not honest, I never met a noble as honest as Goku is!”

"No more questions, your honor."

After the defense lawyer took a seat next to the defendant, Milk waited for the interrogation of the members of the Chamber, which was swift. A nobleman stood up taking the floor and after receiving permission from the judge cleared his throat and addressed her.

"How can we blindly trust your testimony? You clearly don’t have the best of reputations, not after having confessed your state...” The man with dark hair and disdainful appearance questioned her.

"Maybe that's the best reason why you should believe me. It would have been easier for me to get rid of my son and disregard all of this, at least that way I would still have my reputation intact and not be pointed out by all of you at this time.”

The gentleman took a seat and nobody else dared to take the floor. To think that Milk's words carried some logic, the atmosphere in the House of Lords hadn’t changed much. Her testimony was terribly convenient and she didn’t quite convince them completely. Finally, the judge gave her permission to retire and Milk got up to take a seat between the group in which Bulma and company sat.

When the judge was about to call for a break, the defense attorney stood up with a request.

"The defense requests the testimony of Mrs. Bulma, Count Ouji’s wife," he said firmly.

Exalted, Vegeta was about to stand up with the intention of demanding that they stop when he watched her standing up. His chest squeezed inside and lost his breath for a moment in which their eyes met. As if asking him to remain calm and trust her. Vegeta swallowed and clenched his fists, suddenly so nervous that he felt a drop of cold sweat run down his spine. Hoping she couldn't think of doing some madness right then, fearing that the guilt would have ended with her and she had decided to confess before he or Raditz could do it.

"I’ll allow it," the judge replied after seeing the girl standing up.

Bulma walked to the stand and swore on the bible, took a seat trying to keep calm just as Vegeta had done. The prosecutor was looking at her.

"Can you tell the jury the kind of relationship you had with Mrs. Milk and her alleged husband, the defendant?"

"Yes... Milk and I have been friends since I was very young. We frequented the same events. As for her husband, I've only seen him on a couple of occasions, the day he was taken to the police station for questioning and during his father's funeral.”

"She told you about her affair?"

"Yes, she confessed to me the same afternoon she told me about her pregnancy."

“When was that?”

"A couple of months ago, if I remember correctly."

"Did you know they were going to get married?"

Bulma looked at Milk in the distance, her face had lost some of the confidence she exuded when she entered that room. She seemed more worried that her testimony would have done little to improve Goku's situation. Bulma felt a fondness on her chest, the fault of knowing that everything they were living was her responsibility. And at that moment she made a decision that perhaps could improve things, or so she believed.

"I suggested they marry in secret," she said, frowning.

Between the stands, Vegeta watched her wondering what she intended to do. Wondering also if it hadn’t been worse if she refused to give her testimony when the court required it. She would have done nothing but leave them more in evidence that they already were.

"Then the witness has not lied; she planned to marry without waiting for any title or inheritance from Bardock. That's it, ma'am. I only intended to corroborate the witness statement.”

Relieved, Bulma looked at the Judge hoping she could return to her seat when the prosecutor stood up to take the floor.

"Madam, have you been living with Count Ouji for how long so far?"

"What does it have to do with all this?" she questioned.

"Objection, your honor."

"Do you have a point, prosecutor?" Asked the Judge.

"I do, I promise I'll be brief."

"If so, answer the lawyer's question."

Bulma frowned and watched the lawyer resentfully.

“A few months.”

“A single woman living with a single man for months. Is this the kind of testimony we will take into account in this court? That of a couple of dishonored women?”

Vegeta gritted his teeth when he heard his words, but he knew that if he got up he would be out of the courtroom in a matter of seconds and he wouldn’t have a voice among the jury when it was time to reach a verdict. Frustrated, he remained in his seat listening helplessly to the way they insulted Bulma in front of the entire chamber.

"We all know about the scandal that occurred in the last masquerade, in which your husband was involved in an altercation with the Baron and both ended up at the police station. Thanks to the Count's testimony, we know that it was due to her. Is she the same woman we will trust that will be honest to the court? Honestly, it’s nothing more than a crude attempt by the defense to argue something in their favor. No more questions, your honor.”

When the prosecutor returned to take a seat, Vegeta soon asked for the floor and the judge was surprised, watching him from afar.

"Count... I don't think it's appropriate for you to question your own wife."

"I just want to make some things clear to this court that has been responsible for staining my wife's name."

The Judge let out a sigh, watched his court with annoyed countenance and turned to Vegeta.

“I’ll allow it…”

Vegeta looked at Bulma directly as she turned in her uncomfortable chair before public scrutiny.

"Under what conditions did you arrive at my mansion?" He asked in a sharp, almost arrogant tone.

"My parents had died and I had no money, no place to sleep..."

"Didn't you turn to other houses for asylum before you reached my mansion?" He asked hurriedly and in an almost violent tone.

"Yes, in fact, to many."

"Any of those present?"

“Yes…”

“How many? Can you point them out?”

"Yes..." Bulma pointed one by one to the nobles to whom she had sought asylum in those days, including Milk's father. Uncomfortable, they were pointed and many of them looked away.

"I see that many of those present didn’t have regards at leaving a woman in the street. Did you asked for asylum in return to nothing?”

“I didn’t! I was willing to work for it.”

"What did I offer you when you arrived at my mansion?"

“A job…”

“Thank you. I have no further questions.”

Furious, he sat down again and crossed his arms indignantly at what he had been forced to do only in order to rectify the damage caused by the prosecutor. The room was wrapped in a sepulchral silence and surprisingly several eyes turned to those who had refused to give asylum to the impoverished young woman. Having made it clear that not everyone present was as irreproachable as they were estimated to be. But it had done little to make Vegeta feel calmer. Blood boiled inside and he could barely hide it. He had such desires that this ominous trial would end that he couldn’t stand the urge to stand up and get out of there, dragging Bulma behind him. But he couldn't do it, he had to wait until the trial was over.

Bulma returned to her seat with the permission of the judge who asked for a break for the jury. And while Vegeta and the rest of the nobles and clergymen retreated through a door next to the judge's lectern, Bulma and the rest went out to the entrance hall to wait for the trial to resume.

She still felt her heart pounding hard under her chest, shocked by the way they had tried to leave her image on the floor with the sole intention of discrediting her testimony. Tights took her by the arm, distressed over the thought that her young sister had to go through such hardships in her absence and she smiled weakly trying to hide the overwhelming feeling that invaded her.

By the time they left the hall, Raditz's mother hadn’t taken long to approach the girl who had just confessed to being pregnant. Bulma looked at them from afar, unable to hear their conversation. Raditz was standing between them, he looked almost as bad as Tarble. Trying to mediate between them until Milk broke into tears and watched as the older woman took her in her arms trying to reassure her. She saw a tender smile, one similar to the one Goku had. She watched her stroking her back and felt better to see that someone else could hold her while she was experiencing such hardship. But she could hardly observe that scene, since Tights squeezed her arm when she saw her troubled face.

"I don't know why, but I have the feeling that this boy is innocent," she said in a soft tone. “He doesn’t seem that kind of person, although having done so, that man had it well deserved.”

"Watch your words, Tights, someone could hear you..."

“And what? All these morons believe they have the power to find guilty anyone anywhere just because they have a little more money than the rest. That idiot took our family to ruin, if I had been here when that happened, I assure you that I would have done something about it... I’m very sorry to have left when I did, I would never have thought that I would have left you alone and drifting... With me you wouldn’t have been through none of that. Having to knock on the door after door, to find a place to sleep, being so young... I can't help feeling responsible.”

Bulma smiled and put a hand on her sister's firm grip.

"If it hadn't been like that, I might never have met Vegeta. Also, everything I've lived since then has helped me grow. I needed a reality blow to realize how wrong I was in some things. But now the important thing isn’t that, I… I don't think Goku is guilty either… I hope the jury thinks the same.”

"I see it very complicated, and somehow it seems that they were trying to involve you and Vegeta in all this. They are desperate to find a culprit. I can't believe that jerk had no enemies. He seems to be an expert manipulator. And that Zamasu gives me goosebumps, how dare he make such accusations against you? You should sue him for slandering…” Her countenance turned thoughtful, remembering his effusive words. “It's strange, he was so upset, so exalted that it seemed to be more than just a partner... Do you think that...”

"Are you implying that they had a relationship?" Bulma murmured, discreetly approaching Tights.

"It would be very scandalous, don't you think?"

"Or maybe your writer's imagination is just flying... Black seemed more interested in women.”

“An unrequited love may be even more intense than a mutual one.”

Tarble could barely hear their conversation, but didn't seem slightly interested in it. He was so nervous that his stomach ached, as if it were curling under his belly. He felt terribly sorry for the sobs of the pregnant woman on the other side of the hall. Knowing perfectly that he had the freedom of her husband in his hands and simply couldn’t make use of that truth without harming his brother and sister-in-law.”

Suddenly he looked at Bulma.

“You feel good? You look a little pale,” said her sister.

"I'm fine, I just feel a little dizzy."

Suddenly, Tarble feared something he hadn’t considered and the possibility of confessing became further. He opened his eyes and watched her from head to toe, wondering something he didn't dare to say. A doubt that left him without air. He tremble from just thinking about that, everything that implied that his assumption was true. Then he turned to the pregnant woman who continued to cry and wiped the sweat from his forehead. What a mess they had gotten into.

"If you'll excuse me, I'll go out for a minute to get some air."

Bulma and Tights nodded, both slightly worried about the terrible countenance of the boy who hurried down the hall.

"He seems more nervous than the accused," Tights said in a mocking tone.

"He's a sensitive boy, maybe he ate something in bad state..."

On the other side of Parliament, Vegeta was crossing his arms trying not to pay attention to the chatter of the members of the chamber. The most skeptical about the latest testimonies seemed to be clerics, which was to be expected due to their faithful beliefs about what was and not acceptable. However, he soon noticed how divided the opinion was. Although no one seemed to have the desire to approach him, he could feel the opinion begin to divide.

"I always thought he was a liar, surely some of those who he ruined claimed his revenge," he heard in a whisper not too far away, in a group of gentlemen who had gathered a few meters away from him.

He tried not to look at their faces directly to avoid getting their attention. However, he kept an eye on his words.

"No one had dared to talk about him, he always seemed like a scoundrel to me."

"No one did it because he had the most important charges in his pocket, that boy seems like a scapegoat. Someone else killed Black, or maybe several people did. I wouldn’t be surprised.”

"He tried to get me into the same business that involved old Briefs, I was saved by a hair. My son insisted that shouldn’t accept, said it didn't seem like anything good. You see, he was right. Otherwise maybe today I would be the one gathering pennies to survive.”

He was so shocked by what he heard that for a moment he believed that the possibility of trial in his favor existed. But he soon noticed how small the group was, at least ten gentlemen. They were nothing against the remaining twenty. If the rest of the trial didn’t lean in Goku’s favor, there would be no way for him to be found innocent. It seemed very difficult that they could convince them otherwise, the stubborn elders who shared the Chamber with him were the most excited at the time of judging the rest for their supposedly reprehensible behavior. The rest had had working relationships with Black and it was the most expected thing that they had suffered an economic cost from his death, they would probably be very excited about the idea of taking the life of those who had harmed them, even if they were innocent.

A guard opened the door and Vegeta settled to his feet, believing that the break was over. However, the man approached him directly and ducked discreetly.

"Count, your wife has decompensated."

In the ladies room, Bulma wiped her face while Tights stroked her back.

"It seems that Tarble isn’t the only one with a sensitive stomach."

"It's nothing, I'm just a little nervous about going to the stand. I'll be fine.”

Bulma turned and opened the tap, let the water run for a moment and looked in the mirror. She was almost as pale as Gure, she had dark circles under her eyes which didn't surprise her, since she hadn't been able to keep an eye on the whole night. She was terribly tired, her nerves were eating her alive along with guilt.

Suddenly the ladies' bathroom door opened and Vegeta entered. His eyes searched her and she saw his petrified gaze fall on her.

“Ey! It's the ladies room!” Tights reproached him, but Vegeta seemed not to have heard her at all as he walked to his wife and took her by the shoulders.

“Are you okay? What happened?”

"Nothing happened, just dizziness. Nothing important.”

"I told you to eat something before leaving, why don't you ever listen to me?"

"I wasn't hungry, and if I eat something now I will only feel worse. It's the nerves, don't worry about me, Vegeta, I'm fine.”

"Bring her a glass of water," he ordered Tights without even turning to her.

"Oh, that's fine. But I remind you again that this is the ladies room.”

When Tights left the bathroom and closed the door behind them, Vegeta turned his eyes to his wife and examined her appearance.

"You look terrible."

“How nice. Is it the most appropriate thing that occurred to you to tell me? I'm a bunch of nerves for all this... I want it to be over as soon as possible. But I don't know what would be worse...”

"There is little left, there is only one testimony... But I think it would be the last nail in that boy's coffin."

“Who is it?”

“Zamasu. The judge agreed to let him give his testimony, although he will not be part of the jury later.”

"You're right, he might end up ruining everything. If Goku ever had a chance to go free... But, you know...? Tights said something that makes a lot of sense. I hadn't stopped to wonder about their relationship, I was too worried about everything else to think about it. But it's something I've always considered a little strange and I just never mentioned it.”

“What is it?”

"You never thought that the relationship between Black and Zamas was something strange? That is, they didn’t seem like simple partners, like you and Raditz. They seemed...”

"Something else... Yes, in fact, I've always thought about it. But Black was always open about his desire to marry you, we both know he liked women.”

"Yes, but what about Zamasu? You heard him, he is desperate to find the culprit of his death, much more than everyone else in the rest of the House of Lords. In fact, if I were in his place and someone... I would behave in the same way, I wouldn’t rest until I found the culprit.”

“If what you are saying is true, it will not look very good among the clerics of the chamber, his testimony may fall on the floor…”

"Just as they tried with mine and Milk's. Maybe you won't lose anything with trying...”

The door rang a couple of times and they both turned around, Tights entered with a glass of water in her hands and behind her, the same guard who had called him approached. While her sister handed her the glass, the man turned to Vegeta to tell him that he should return to the room, since they would resume the trial shortly.

Vegeta directed the onyx of his gaze to his wife's pearl one, withdrew the gloved hand that remained on her waist and turned to the door.

Tights remained with Bulma and after seeing them withdraw, she inspected her slightly, crossing her arms.

"You aren't be pregnant, right?"

By the time everyone resumed their seats in court, Vegeta had come up with the clear idea of discrediting Zamas in the same way the prosecutor had done it with Bulma. But, despite this resounding idea hanging around in his thoughts, it seemed difficult to find the right way to address the issue. He had to wait for himself to say something that would put his true feelings in evidence, if Bulma was right about those guesses.

The judge didn’t take long to announce his next witness, clarifying after his entry that he could not be part of the jury since he had been accused of contempt. Granting him the opportunity to give his testimony simply to terminate the trial.

Zamas had entered the door next to the podium with his hands cuffed, then a guard approached and released him. He stroked his wrists, his gesture seemed totally absent, very different from the congested face of fury he had before being removed from the stands.

Bulma's skin bristled at the feel of his gloomy gaze aimed at her for a moment, as if he could get under her skin, as if he really knew what had happened that dark night in which she had ended Black's life. She swallowed, trying to pretend to be calm and raised her chin. She still felt slightly weak after her painful episode in the bathroom, but she managed to gather enough strength to return to the room even though her sister had advised her otherwise.

The prosecutor stood up and walked calmly to the dais. Such was his confidence that he seemed to have terminated the trial, as if that last testimony was left over to the court.

"Viscount, for how many years did you know Black?"

"Since about thirty years ago, we met when we were children."

“And how many years did you share as partners?”

"Since about fifteen, approximately."

"Did he had bad blood with someone? Anyone who had threatened him at some point? Anyone who would envy him?”

He was silent for a moment, then looked up and evidently looked at Vegeta.

"In addition to the accused, the only one who has threatened Black's physical integrity has been the Count, as I have already mentioned. He had no enemies; he had a very good relationship with everyone.”

"Did Black ever expressed dissatisfaction with his father's decision to recognize his bastard son?"

"On numerous occasions, he tried to dissuade his father from doing so. He was disgracing the memory of his mother and himself in doing so. It was something totally unnecessary, Bardock was on the verge of death, his mental state would probably be compromised by his illness. Black was right, that boy only abused his father's poor condition. It’s a shame that a lawyer agreed to perform the procedure.”

“You spent a lot of time with the Baron, I understand that you are the last person who saw him alive and that you were the one who reported his disappearance. Can you briefly tell us what happened that day?”

"After the encounter with Bardock and his bastard, we left. He was very upset, he spent the afternoon drinking, although I advised him not to... He ignored me... He was extremely worried, it was understandable. Unfortunately, thanks to his father's decision to recognize his bastard, he would have to live paying him a family allowance. He would have to see him every month for the rest of his life. When the night came, it didn’t stop raining and he insisted me on leaving him alone, I asked him to wait while I went to ask my employees to prepare a car for him, but when I returned, he was no longer there... I looked for him throughout the city, during all night. I went to his mansion and he hadn’t returned. I was afraid that something would have happened to him, I looked at the hospitals, at the police stations... But I didn't find him. In the morning I spoke with his employees and he still didn’t appear, so I made the report for his disappearance. I had to insist that they look for him, it hadn’t passed the hours required by law to report a disappearance... However, they did so at the request of the mayor. That is all…”

"Did he say something to give you an idea where he was going that night?"

"Nothing specific... I even looked for him in bars and taverns, but I couldn't find him, nobody had seen him there."

"Did he frequent those places?"

"Of course not, he was a recognized member of high society. He wasn’t going to mix with mere peasants. He was above them.”

"Do you think he could have gone in search of his half-brother?"

"It's very likely, and maybe that was what they were waiting for. They hoped to find him in a vulnerable state to end him.”

“They? Do you suspect that someone helped him with the crime?”

"Yes, someone who hated him the same way that bastard does."

"Thank you for your testimony, Viscount. No more questions, your honor.”

The court was wrapped in a sepulchral silence. The prosecutor's footsteps were heard on the premises as he walked to his seat once more and the defense lawyer stood up to start his interrogation. He looked more worried than at first, trying poorly to maintain a stoic look while carrying out his task. He stood up and doing so, didn’t lose sight of the viscount's gloomy gaze.

"Sir, Zamasu. Did my client ever express any kind of resentment to his half-brother?”

"Not in my presence, he's very good at looking innocent."

"So, he has never verbalized some kind of resentment against Black, isn't he?"

“I suppose not.”

"Did he ever talk about money with Black?"

"No, they didn't interact on many occasions. Black tried to avoid it.”

"He feared him?"

"He hated him."

"Then my client never seemed like a threat to him."

"And maybe that was a fatal mistake, if he had been more cautious about how dangerous that bastard was, maybe he would be alive today."

The prosecutor smiled. “Those are just guesses, viscount.”

"Please, just answer the lawyer's questions," the judge asked.

"Yes..." he replied reluctantly. “Black didn’t consider his half-brother bastard as a threat.”

“In all your years of relationship, how many of your businesses were unsuccessful?”

"It would be impossible for me to know exactly how many, in fifteen years of work. They are eventualities that can be expected from anyone.”

"Would you say about twenty, minimum? In fifteen years, I suppose you two have been part of countless businesses.”

"Maybe, I'm not sure."

“How many businesses ended up in the bankruptcy of your counterpart?”

“I don’t know…”

"But it is an eventuality that has happened, isn't it?"

“Yes, but…”

"That is to say that Mr. Black has incurred an untold amount of business, of which an invaluable amount has ended up harming his counterpart. Wouldn't you say this could be a reason for someone else to have resentment against Black?”

“It is possible, but he has always kept a good relationship…”

"Maybe someone else could have kept some suspicion against the Baron, even several people."

“Of course not! He was a very respected member of society!”

“No more questions.”

The prosecutor returned to his seat, hoping he could at least create a doubt about who might have wanted to end Black's life. The judge cleared his throat and asked the members of the court to request the floor to continue, otherwise, he would terminate the trial and the jury would have to withdraw to deliberate the verdict.

Vegeta was preparing to take the floor, when he saw the judge nod to someone else behind him. The Count turned and watched Ox Satan stand up, the gigantic man cleared his throat and addressed Zamas.

"The Baron had any love relationship that you know of?"

"Well..." he hesitated for a moment and then continued. “He hadn’t found someone at his level.”

"If he had the audacity to try to get involved with the Count's fiancee, isn't it possible that he would have done the same with another man's wife? That behavior could have brought him problems.”

Vegeta was impressed by what he had just heard, but after a little thought he realized that the interest that had aroused in Ox was probably due to the fact that he had finally realized that whoever was on trial, was not another than his current son-in-law. The father of his future grandson was on trial and with it perhaps, the reputation of his entire family. What is worse than having a son-in-law convicted of murder, having married in a secret ceremony with his pregnant daughter. He smiled and turned to see Zamasu, his face beginning to become congested once more.

"What happened with that girl was nothing more than a slip. He had no relationship with other women.”

Another noble asked for the floor and stood up.

“I was present during a train trip in which the Baron and the Count, together with a group of gentlemen made bets. And I clearly heard him betting on Mrs. Briefs' car bed, I thought it was of very bad taste on his part. Did he do that frequently to address women? He was that kind of gentleman?”

“Of course not! Surely it was just a joke!”

Vegeta seized his opportunity and stood up, after the judge granted him permission to question the witness.

"He had no relationship with many women?"

"He was a little more selective than you," he replied with a frown.

The Count cocked a smile and crossed his arms.

"And you, did you had the chance to declare your feeling towards him?" He heard the entire court explode in comments and snorts surprised. Vegeta's words sounded unheard of and Zamas opened his eyes, opened his lips and babbled without really answering the question. “I have known him for years and never saw Black woo a woman, except my wife. And I haven’t seen you with any lady, you haven’t married yet. Even by your testimony I deduce that you had spent almost your entire life with him. I must admit that your relationship always seemed strange to me, were you so jealous for Black's interest in my wife that you decided to end his life?”

“How dare you! Damn fool! If you dare to talk about Black like that one more time, I'm going to kill you!”

“Order! Order in this court!”

"You will regret saying that! You and the climbing rat you have as a wife!”

Zamas had stood up, pushing his fingernails hard on the dark wooden lectern in which he was sitting. A guard approached at the request of the Judge while the mallet sounded, rumbling in the precinct, unable to turn off the voices of those present, shocked by the turn the last testimony had given.

Exhausted, the Judge stroked his forehead as the audience began to lower their voice. A boy came running around the room and whispered to the Judge in his ear.

“Apparently we have one last witness who has come forward to give his statement. Make him come in, please.”

Vegeta sat down again as he watched the doors of the chamber open and through them an aged man, slightly hunched over and with an incipient bald spot over the little hair he had left. His eyebrows extremely populated and his face terribly wrinkled. He was wearing a dark cape and when he reached the stage, he withdrew it, he had a short cassock and a cross hung over his chest. Intrigued, he watched as he swore on the bible.

The prosecutor read a document while quickly preparing for his interrogation. Then he looked up with a stunned gesture.

"You officiated the defendant's marriage?" He asked, losing his confident appearance.

"That's right, my good lord. I have been the one who married that young couple... I apologize for being so late, not long ago I knew about what was happening and I wanted to come here to give my statement.”

The prosecutor cleared his throat and turned to Goku and his youthful appearance for a moment.

"What day did the marriage took place, and about what time? Where…?”

"I brought the documents with me," he replied, taking a paper from his pocket to extend it to the Judge.

"The dates coincide," the judge commented after inspecting it and both lawyers approached him. “I think this is proof enough to end all this, there is no way they could make the trip with the storm of that day and come back here to kill him and hide the body. There isn’t enough evidence to frame him, if you have nothing else, prosecutor, I would like to end this trial right now.” Without words, the prosecutor stepped aside after nodding and the mallet rang flooding the House. “Due to the lack of evidence against the defendant and the recent evidence of his whereabouts on the day of the crime, this court declares this trial void,” he raised his mallet for the last time and thereby terminated the trial.

While, on the other side of the room, the Church members seemed satisfied with the latest evidence presented, several of the Lords stood in outrage at the Judge's decision. He, for his part, barely realized that it was all over. He was surprised, as much as Bulma and Tarble were. His young brother let out a sigh and loosened the knots of his back as those present stood to begin to withdraw. Bulma looked up and saw the Judge retreating and a guard approaching Goku to free him from his handcuffs. Milk soon hugged him, breaking into tears once again. The modest priest approached the young couple and Milk took his hands, thanking him for his help.

Finally, she felt she could breathe again. Tights got up taking her sister by the arm, still worried about her almost absent expression.

"Do you still feel bad?"

“What? No, not at all...”

“All are beginning to retire; we should do the same.”

"Maybe it would be best to wait for that boy to leave," Jaco interrupted. “People are still outside waiting to know what happened. We don’t know how they will behave knowing that the trial was declared void. For our safety, let's wait a few more minutes.”

Tights nodded and waited for Vegeta, who was coming down from the stands with the same uneasy look that Bulma had. They went out to the hall next to the rest of the chamber members. On the other side of the front door they could still hear the crowd gathered in the street.

"I hope Broly is well, he’s waiting by the carriage," Bulma said in a worried tone.

"I don't think anyone dares to mess with him, he looks scary," said Tights, who still didn't give up the strong grip she had on her arm, perhaps fearing she would vomit again.

"Your sister is right, you shouldn't worry about him," Vegeta added, arms crossed, still motionless to her right.

Finally, Goku left the chamber and his mother ran to hug him, crying and recriminating all kinds of things with no regard that everyone there could hear her.

“Married? Expecting a son? When were you going to tell me all that?! You haven't even had the decency to introduce me to your wife! What kind of ungrateful son are you?!”

"Mom… lower your voice," Raditz begged, trying to take her by the shoulders.

"And don't you dare to give your mother an order! You are another ungrateful brat! I didn't raise you this way! Take your hands off me!”

"Easy mom, everything was resolved," Goku said, smiling, squeezing a smile he couldn't keep when his mother squeezed him tightly on the cheek.

"My son is married and expecting a son and he wasn’t able to tell me! You've left that poor girl carrying this alone! How do you think she has felt all this time! I could have helped you! You're a…”

Gine released her son when a robust man approached her, clearing his throat and thus ceasing the scandal she had made. Goku rubbed his cheek, complaining about how rude his mother had been. Ox Satan appeared before her and glanced at the curious looks that required them. Bulma pretended to be distracted, now that finally the whole truth was exposed, she hoped that Milk could reorganize her life. She couldn’t help but listen to her father's words, he seemed nicked, sorry for the whole situation in which his young daughter had been involved.

"I am very sorry for all the inconvenience my daughter has caused your family, ma'am," he said in a content tone. “It has taken me a lot of work to get to understand... now I understand why my daughter was behaving so strangely lately. I know she has suffered a lot from not being able to marry your son as she wished… Maybe everything would have been better if I had agreed in the first place. None of this would have happened.”

Gina let out a sigh, tired, and at the same time relieved. She looked up and smiled. Bulma recognized Goku's smile on her again. Perhaps she was the reason why Black and Goku were abysmally different.

“I am the one who should apologize for my son's behavior, he has done nothing but lie to his family and dishonor your daughter.”

“Milk wasn’t educated to behave in this way… But what is done is done. And if my daughter was so determined to marry him to get to this extreme, I have no choice but to accept it. Now we must think what will be best for both of them, and face this situation accordingly. As it should.”

“It seems right… What if we had dinner tonight all together to discuss the future of these children?”

"I will see one of my coachmen pass by your house tonight, you will be welcome in my house."

Bulma smiled, suddenly felt calmer and was sure that Milk would feel the same. She couldn’t continue to imagine the stress she had been through, and add to it the fact that she was only in her first trimester of pregnancy. It must have been a terrible situation for her and she was glad it was over.

Shortly after, Milk, Goku and their families went out the front door. Raditz covered his mother from the crowd that was coming. She got to see Goku talking to a reporter from the local newspaper before the door closed and turned to Vegeta hoping to find a same serene look now that everything was over.

But when she saw him, she didn't find what she expected. His profile was strong, immovable. He seemed alert and waiting for something else to happen, as if he thought they would resume the trial at any moment, even if it was impossible that it had ended.

By the time they left Parliament, there were barely a dozen people loitering around, a boy selling newspapers, and an impaired woman selling bread. The carriage was still where they had left it and next to it the figure of Broly that looked more like an imperturbable statue.

On the way to Tarble's residence, Tights recalled every moment in court as if she intended to memorize it and thus dump it into some history in the future. Bulma was just nodding, uncomfortable, knowing that the only ones inside that carriage who didn't know the truth were Tights and Jaco. Fortunately, Jaco didn’t let go many words, even though they had spent several weeks living together with them, he kept behaving in such an eccentric and distant way and Bulma began to assume that perhaps, he just was like that.

When Tarble got out of the carriage along with his guests, he turned to his brother for the last time.

"I'll go see you early tomorrow," he warned and closed the door when Vegeta nodded.

When they were alone, Bulma sighed again, relaxed her back and dropped without force on the carriage's vermilion cushions.

"I can't believe it's over, I feel like I had taken a heavy weight off my back." Vegeta didn't answer, she still had that terrible expression on his face and she approached him, hugged his arm and supported her chin over the curve of his shoulder. “Hey... are you alright? I notice you look worried, what are you thinking about?”

He barely turned his face and looked at Bulma, raised an eyebrow and decided to answer.

"Do you really believe... That this is over?"

“Well, yes. The trial was declared void, that is, they cannot prosecute Goku again for Black's death. Raditz will not have to confess to save his brother, nor will Tarble. We have an alibi...”

"What about Zamas? Didn't you hear his threats?”

"I don't think he's stupid enough to try to do something to us after publicly threatening us. If something could happen to either of us, he would be the main suspect. I even think we could blame him for your accident in equestrian competition, or at least ask for a restraining order for his threats. Maybe that will leave you calmer... Besides, Broly is always with me, there's no way he can get close to us. Don't worry about him, now we have more important things to attend to. At any time, the edict will be announced with my patent, when we have it, I can start working for real and we need investors. Don't waste your time thinking about him.”

Despite her carefree smile, she hadn't managed to take away that fearful expression from the Count. However, she was right. Now that the trial was over, they could again focus on remodeling his grandfather's old residence and the inheritance problem.

Upon arriving at the mansion Vegeta urged Bulma to go to bed and wait for something to eat, and in the spirit of not altering him she reluctantly agreed. As she left, Vegeta walked to his office and opened the first drawer of the old desk that once belonged to his father. He took a dark box and, after sitting down, opened it. He took the necklace that lay there, he still couldn't forget it. He couldn’t get out of his mind what it symbolized.

The tears of his wife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is the final part of the fic. I don't know if they are going to be 40 chapters in total. That was just a guess judging by how far I was from the ending. The story starts its end tomorrow, with chapter 34. It will have a epilogue, a little short, but it will serve to end a couple of things that won't have an answer at the final chapter. I hope You liked this story so far <3 Thank you for reading!


	34. Chapter XXXIV

* * *

  **IN YOUR HANDS**

* * *

 

Chapter

-XXXIV-

* * *

 

She looked at the ads and looked briefly at the news. She paused for a moment while reading one of the headlines. Bulma frowned and looked at Vegeta from the corner of her eye; He ate as they had every morning since the trial, so focused that she wanted to know exactly if he was planning something she didn't know or not. And even though she had tried to distract him several times, he would eventually look that way again. As if he were in a permanent state of alert. Then she looked back at the newspaper in her hands, two more were waiting for her on the table.

"Why don't you leave that for after eating?" Her husband roared.

"I can't, I need to know if the edict has already come out."

“When it’s published, my lawyer will be the first to notify us.”

"Maybe he forgot. I have to be sure.”

However, she remained on the page without being able to continue to the following. She looked at the header once more and barely read the news.

_The murder of Baron Black remains unsolved_

There was a slight detail of what had happened at Goku's trial and the unexpected way in which it had ended. Little was mentioned of Vegeta and her, fortunately. Nor did it mention the accusations he had submitted Zamasu to, and his strange relationship with Black. Probably the newspaper didn’t want to be sued for slander.

She hadn’t heard from Milk or her husband again by that time, just a couple of days had passed and she was sure that her parents would be handling the matter as discreetly as possible.

"Do you think Goku has received the inheritance without problems? Since he was practically found innocent...”

"I don't think Zamasu can do anything to stop that process."

"Well, I'm glad. Now his mother will receive the help her butcher shop needs and Milk will have a roof for her son.”

"What about the edict? Is there?”

"No... I guess you're right," she said tiredly as she closed the newspaper in her hands to set it aside. “I’ll have to wait for the lawyer to tell us the news. Maybe I should just worry about remodeling your grandfather's residence.”

"Try not to be too scandalous with the decoration."

Bulma smiled.

"I have very good taste; you don't have to worry. Of course, it will be less dreary than the look of this mansion. I think you haven't redecorated in decades...” she glanced at the old chandelier that hung on the roof and the pictures on the walls. “When we finish it we should have a party.”

“A party? Don't even think about it, I hate those stupid things.”

"It will give us good luck, we can invite only our friends."

“Which friends?”

"You know, Tarble and Gure, Tights and Jaco, even Raditz and maybe Milk, I'd like to know how she is doing," she turned to the door frame, toward the man who had practically become her shadow. “You can come too, Broly.”

He looked at her, there was something slightly awkward in his appearance and he turned in his place upon hearing her invitation, but ended up nodding after a few seconds. Bulma was thinking for a moment and after deliberating, stood up and went to the kitchen without saying anything and without answering her husband's question.

“Where are you going? You haven't finished eating yet!”

She quickly returned with a plate in her hands and a bunch of cutleries. She placed them next to her seat and sat back on her chair. Vegeta, at the tip of the table, looked restlessly at the plate and then at the boy who watched everything from the corner.

"Come, Broly. Sit down to eat with us. I'm tired of seeing you standing there every morning.”

“What are you doing?” Vegeta whispered, taking her by the wrist.

"I just said it, I'm tired of seeing him watching us eat," she replied with a frown and shook her husband's grip. She turned her obfuscated face to the boy who still didn't answer, still, inert in his usual position. “I told you to come and eat!”

Broly walked quickly to the table and sat there, next to Bulma, just as she had ordered. His practically petrified gaze swept through the series of fine cutlery of different sizes and Bulma knew immediately that he didn’t know which one he should take first.

"Use whatever you want, don’t worry about it, Broly," she stood up and took a portion of salmon that left on her young escort's plate. Then she brought a salad bowl and he received it without saying a word. “There you go.”

“Thank Mrs.”

Vegeta looked at his new guest with some misgivings, however, he found no words to get him off the table without making an unnecessary scandal. Anyway, that boy Raditz had sent him was the quietest he had ever met. Perhaps the only one who compared him was Jaco, but even he from time to time made a strange comment. It seemed that Bulma had the ability to attract such people to her life and should only learn to deal with it. And perhaps all of this, despite how different it was from what he had used all his life, was beginning to acquire a sense of calm and naturalness. Which was also strange, it was strange that after everything that had happened, they could have a few quiet days.

He had found himself reading in his study with Bulma wandering around him, tired of not finding something to do while waiting for her edict to be published. Lying at night in his bed with her reclining on him, reading a book. Telling anecdotes about her childhood with Tights, although he didn't have many to share about himself and Tarble.

He had wondered if the tea meetings between Gure, Tights and her would become commonplace. Her laughter echoing in the corners of the mansion until she sneaked into his office while he worked, had become something that particularly reassured him. The knowledge that she was happy and permanently accompanied, erasing that sense of danger that had been plagued inside him after discovering that ominous gift.

Waking up with her messy hair on her face, and her screams when he jerked it without realizing it, when he settled on the bed in the mornings. Everything had become habitual and seemed about to fade away. As if at any day he would open his eyes in the morning and woke up to find that mansion empty once more. Without new decoration or dresses lying on the floor, without the smell of her perfume impregnated in the air.

One afternoon, two weeks after the trial, Vegeta's lawyer had finally knocked on the door. Bulma was in the great hall that had been cleared once again to make way for her great invention. And like every afternoon, she was there, making sure that each gear was in place, oiled and ready to be turned on once again.

"Good afternoon, Count," said the lawyer, entering his office. “I have good news. I have already been notified that the ad has been sent to the press. Tomorrow they will publish the edict.”

"Take a seat," Vegeta said after shaking his hand. “What's next now?”

"Well, we have to wait a few days in case someone else argues that it was his invention and not your wife's. Once the deadline is over, an inspector will come to visit you. Is everything ready?”

"My wife has taken care of that; she will be ready."

"Perfect, then you can do with your wife’s invention what you want. If you want to sell it, produce it, you will be totally free to do so.”

“I appreciate your help.”

“Please, it was a pleasure to be a participant in this… Although my father still doesn’t get used to these modern times, it has been a great experience for me. I would even like to be present when the inspector comes, if it’s not too much trouble. I would love to see your wife's invention.”

"I don't think she’ll have objection. I will tell her the news.”

"Thank you very much, Count. I’ll be alert in the case any eventuality arises. I won’t take any more time from you...”

He escorted him to the door and said goodbye. After closing the front door, he stood there for a moment and a slight smile arched at the corner of his lip. He retraced his steps and headed without hesitation to the great hall, crossed the threshold of the open doors and walked beside Broly, who was sitting a few meters against a wall. Bulma had put on one of his shirts, he himself had called his tailor to go to the mansion to make her a few pants and some shirts, but he couldn't make him stop stealing his clothes. She had the sleeves rolled up to the elbow and when she raised her face to look at him, he found an oil stain on her neck. The shirt had stained too.

Bulma quickly noticed how he arched his eyebrow, his eyes directly on the spot on the white collar of his shirt.

"I'm sure it can be removed if you they it well."

“Oil doesn’t remove.”

“How do you know?”

"Because it's the third shirt you ruin."

"Then I'll keep using it, you won't be able to wear it if it's dirty."

He turned to the carriage, it was gleaming and judging by the cans and rags that were scattered all over the floor, she herself had taken care of cleaning it.

"Do you know we have employees who can do this for you?"

"I wanted to do it. I just want to be prepared for when I have to exhibit it."

"You won't have to wait that long," he said and let her see his pearly smile. “I have just been informed that the edict will be published tomorrow.”

“Really!?” she shouted and suddenly hugged him tightly, almost about to take away his stability.

Vegeta looked at Broly, his cheeks soon dyed, heated by his wife's shameless affection. But the boy wasn’t looking at him. His eyes were distracted towards the window and he tried not to pay too much attention to his presence. She released him and looked into his eyes with enthusiasm.

"We must organize the investors meeting," Bulma said without removing her hands from the Count's chest.

"I know, I asked Tarble some time ago. We just have to put a date.”

"Tomorrow would be too soon, how long should we wait?"

"Another two weeks... Just to prevent someone from trying to claim they invented it before you."

"Oh... It's too long for me, but we have no choice. We'll have to wait… I don't know what to do to kill time… We could do something fun…” she said, flirtatiously approaching to caress his jacket lapel. “How about we go to the opera? Or to the theater?”

"Do you consider that fun?" He asked, twisting his smile. He looked up at Broly and took her by the wrist, taking her out of the great hall until they lost sight of him, in one of the corridors of the mansion. “I know of something more fun we could be doing right now.”

"Haven't you got tired of that?" she asked, wrapping his neck between her arms.

“Tired? Me? Don’t make me laugh…”

"You know I would love to, but Tights is about to come. She said she had something to tell me...”

Slightly frustrated, he removed his hands from Bulma's waist and before he could release her she quickly approached to kiss him on the cheek. Then she let go and saw her shirt again.

"I'll go change," she said smiling before leaving.

Vegeta watched her go and walked slowly down the corridor. He went back to the double door of the great hall and was surprised to see Broly standing by the window. He heard a bark and watched him open the back door to the garden, ducked down and stroked a small dirty dog that had slipped his way in the yard. He paid no attention and continued walking to the main hall. With his hands inside the pockets of his pants, he stood there. Still feeling that strange calm that was beginning to suffocate him. He ended up sitting on the couch, the same couch he had sat on when Bulma had come to that house asking for asylum. He remembered that dark winter night, her long hair and her cheap dress. Her broken shoes and the blush on her cheeks. He smiled at the memory of how annoying she was to have ended up there, in front of him. He would never have believed that he would facing the woman who would end up being his wife.

Little time had passed when Tights carriage stopped in front of the door and watched her go down next to Jaco through the window. He glanced at the stairs, Bulma wasn’t ready yet. He waited a few seconds and heard her knock on the door and got up to meet them.

"Good afternoon, brother-in-law! I’m glad that you are here!”

"It's my house..." he answered arching an eyebrow.

Tights entered and behind her Jaco, they both sat in the living room. Jaco carried a portfolio that he left on the table and was surprised about how excited Tights was, looking around as if she were looking for Bulma impatiently.

"She's getting dressed, she'll come down in a moment," he said, intending to retire, but Tights's voice stopped him.

“Brother in law! Please join us, we also have to talk to you.”

Awkwardly, he turned around and watched her expression. Her black eyes wide open and her tight smile, contained in the emotion she really felt.

“Talk about what?”

"It would be better to wait for my sister. Come on, take a seat.”

He doubt, but walked to the sofa in which he had recently risen from. He sat down again and an employee approached.

"Would you like something to drink?"

"A green tea for me," Tights replied.

"Coffee," Jaco said shortly.

“And you sir?”

“No, nothing.”

By the time Bulma returned, dressed in a tight blue evening dress, her sister and her editor were drinking from their cups, silently beside her husband. She came over and took a seat next to Jaco.

"I thought I heard you, what did you want to talk about?"

"Actually, I needed to talk to you two."

Bulma watched Vegeta and he shrugged, as surprised as she was.

"Well... what is it about?"

The blonde cleared her throat and Jaco leaned down to open his portfolio. From there he took out two documents and handed one of them to Bulma and the other to Vegeta. While she gave it a quick glance, the Count dedicated himself to reading it in detail.

"It's the rights of your story," Tights said. “I have to admit that everything that has happened between you two has fascinated me, the way you fell in love has been so romantic that I would like to write a novel about you two. Of course, I would change your names and put aside some of the Count's activities, change a couple of things. To start, the Count would be taller and Bulma, you would be a little more educated. It will be a wonderful novel! I just need you to sing the contract and you can see my manuscript at all times. Also, I would need to talk to each other alone to internalize a little more about your history together. What do you say?”

"No way," Vegeta replied, leaving the contract on the table.

"But brother-in-law!"

"I will not allow you to write a romance novel about me! I’m not a character in your stories!”

"It will be a drama!"

“I already said no!”

"Count, if your concern is to be linked to the main character of Tights’s novel, we can add a clause in the contract so that your participation is confidential," Jaco interrupted. “In addition, you will receive part of the royalties of the novel, or the novels that arose from this story.”

"Well, I don't feel very comfortable with all this either. That is, you can change the names, but if the story is the same, they would recognize us easily.”

“The protagonist of this story will not be an orphan, nor will she have a sister. She will be banished from her family for having had an affair with a stable boy.”

"In no way will I allow you to write that!" Vegeta bellowed.

"Maybe this will change your mind." Jacob took another document from his portfolio, handed it to both of them, and the couple watched without clearly understanding what they were seeing. “These are the gains of Tights’s latest novel, you would receive a third of this.”

"Is this what you gained!?" Bulma questioned shocked.

"Oh, and this would be an advance," Jaco added, handing Vegeta a check.

Vegeta still held the sheet of paper in his hands, incredulous at the amount of money she had managed to knead.

“Romantic novels are booming, they are the most sold at the moment. I also write from other genres, but the truth is that they don’t sell as well. I am sure it will be a success.”

"Besides, nobody knows that Tights is a writer. She publishes under a pseudonym, nobody knows who the author really is. That would make it harder for them to link her with you two,” Jaco added.

Bulma looked at Vegeta, still immersed in the large sum he observed.

"Can we talk in private?" she asked.

"You won't be thinking about accepting it!"

"I just want to talk in private!"

She stood up and crossed her arms, Vegeta put the document on the table and reluctantly walked to the next room. Bulma closed the dining room doors and stood still, leaning on the dark oak wood behind her.

"I already told you that I’m not going to do it."

"Didn't you see what she won? We need that money!”

"We can get it another way."

"I'd rather not involve The Black Widow's money in all this. What would happen if someone notices? Are you going to bribe the whole treasury so they don't investigate our only investor?”

"I will if I have to."

"Why not use some legitimate money? It wouldn't come from your father's inheritance; they can't take that away from us. If everything goes wrong and we don’t find investors at least we will have the Tights book royalties.”

"I'm not going to be a character in romantic novels for spinsters!"

"Maybe you aren't, but I'm going to accept! So Tights will have to invent me a fictional husband for that novel, maybe the Bulma of that novel is marries the stable boy!”

Before she could dare to open the door again to sign the contract that awaited her on the table, Vegeta had put a hand on it to prevent her from crossing.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

"Then sign and be my fictional husband!"

“Okay! Dammit! I’ll sign the stupid rights of the history! But it’s better for your sister to change everything that can link these characters with the two of us, I will not be the mockery of the whole city!”

"Oh, Vegeta… Do you think Tights earns so much money by selling her books in one city? The whole country probably reads it.”

Bulma opened the door with her stunned husband behind her and walked back to the living room where her sister and her editor were waiting for them.

"Where do we sign?"

It had been several hours when Vegeta went to the bar for a drink. Bulma had opened a window and smoked a cigarette quietly. Her sister had been ecstatic that she had signed the rights to the novel and she kept the large check she had given her in her skirt pocket. The edict would be published during the next morning and she only had to wait a reasonable time to begin to really work on it.

The Count was still upset, he drank brandy without putting an eye on his wife. Tights had left a couple of copies of her manuscript for each one and they would have to read them in detail. He would never have imagined finding himself reading a romantic novel, although Tights had insisted it was a dramatic story.

"We could start reading it tonight before bed," Bulma told him, pulling him out of his reverie. “She has only written one hundred pages.”

"I'm not in the mood to read," he replied, taking a sip.

"I can read it for you," she said, taking a copy of the manuscript. She opened it on any page and started. _“Evan looked at her at the corner of his eye, so shy and chaste. So serene...”_

“Well, she did change the characters.”

Bulma frowned and skipped a few pages.

 _“Vivian hugged him tightly, crying on his back. —Please, my lord. Don't leave me on the street, I promise to work more carefully— he turned and wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb. —Don't cry, I don't like to see you cry.— Vivian was speechless, he was so kind and gallant when they were alone that he seemed like two different people,”_ she laughed softly and watched Vegeta, he made a sound with his lips and looked disinterestedly across the room. “Definitely nobody will notice this is you. You see it? You have nothing to worry about. Just accept the money and let her write.”

"I already did," he said, setting his glass on the small bar. He walked to her and approached her, took the manuscript from her hands and placed it on the table. “And you will quit smoking,” he took the cigarette in his hands and threw it out the window.

“Hey!”

"I hate the smell."

"It was the last one I had left!"

"It's the least you can do after what you forced me to do today."

He closed the window and made a gesture of distaste, raised a gloved hand and tried to dispel the gray cloud that had formed in front of her.

"Okay, I guess."

"Now go take a bath, you stink of cigarettes."

Without much encouragement, she turned to their room and Vegeta remained there until he finished his glass of brandy. Then he followed Bulma's footsteps and found her dress lying on the floor. He heard the water behind the bathroom door and heard her hum a song. He sat on the edge of the bed, listening to her voice, thinking for a moment if all that would eventually end.

The edict had been published, just as the lawyer had informed Vegeta. The inspector didn’t take long to make himself present and Bulma had displayed her knowledge all over the place. He had already seen that engine running, but he kept marveling every time he started it. He had driven it too, just a couple of laps over the garden. Bulma had explained to him in detail how it worked and, although he had always considered himself intelligent, Bulma was on another level. He heard her recite without problem every tiny detail of her invention and how that idea had come to her, that day, during the trip with Black's investors. It was strange to think that this bastard had had something to do with his wife's greatest idea.

The lawyer was ecstatic, as was the inspector, although he had been very thorough so she explained every part of that engine. As if he expected her to eventually make a mistake and end up revealing that she hadn't created it. Bulma had no difficulty in dispelling his doubts and at the end, they gave her a certificate.

She was so happy that she seemed to want to frame that certificate and hang it in her office. The lawyer said goodbye to both of them in the hope of knowing what else they would have planned from now on for the future of that invention.

The two weeks slipped into his hands. They spent several afternoons with Tights, explaining how the coexistence had been during their first days together.

_“Vegeta was always behind me, it's obvious that he was interested from the first moment he saw me, that's why he asked me for a piece in that dance.”_

_"She kept getting into my business, your sister has always been a meddler. I found her on the balcony that day at the dance, she was cursing like a drunk man. From the beginning I realized that she had no manners.”_

_"On that trip we met an old lover of Vegeta. But he offered to stay with me since someone had tried to enter my room.”_

_"When I arrived, she was sleeping in my bed."_

_"He kissed me in the masquerade."_

_"She has no shame."_

"Nothing they've told me matches what the other one said," Tights told Bulma as she interviewed her for her novel. “Why do you have such different memories of the same things?”

"He must be remembering them wrong. I haven’t told you more than the truth.”

"Who kissed who?"

"He kissed me!"

"In the dance or in the studio?"

“Both.”

"That's not what he says."

"Well, maybe his memories got messed up after the accident."

"All right, I’ll do what I can with what you have told me," she replied frustrated. “Where is the Count now?”

"He is with Tarble. They are waiting for investors to arrive...”

"How many are you waiting for?"

"A lot, but they are already late..."

Someone knocked on the door and Bulma rose from the sofa quickly. She opened the door and met Raditz's imposing figure. When he entered, he took a quick look around.

“Am I too late?”

"No, no one has come yet..."

"It was to be expected," he replied. “¿Vegeta?”

"He’s in the living room. I guess there is no other choice. It's just us...”

Bulma and Tights accompanied Raditz to the lounge where Vegeta and Table were waiting for them, in the company of Gure. The carriage was still covered in a white blanket, waiting to be presented to investors who didn’t arrive. Tarble watched Bulma with disdain. His face had clouded with grief.

"No one will come to see something a woman invented, right?" Bulma said.

"They will regret it when they see that your invention is a success," said Tights, trying to cheer up her sister.

"Vegeta should have patented it in his name," Raditz said.

"I wasn't going to let my credit be taken away for something I created myself."

"Well, your name has cost you investors," he answered.

“Tarble, with Raditz’s and the money we have gathered, will it be enough?” Asked Vegeta.

"It can barely pay the rent for a couple of months and the production of just a dozen carriages. That, without counting the salary of the employees and taxes.”

“Bulma, I have a capital to invest in your project. I will gladly be your investor,” said Tights. “I have no doubt that once everyone sees how revolutionary your engine is, they will want to buy it.”

"Tarble..." Gure interrupted. “I've been thinking, what do you think if we invest my dowry in Bulma’s project?”

"Wait, Gure. Didn't you plan to buy a residence?”

"Yes, but... I also trust it will be a great investment. With the earnings, we can buy an even better house than the one we had seen. That... Sure, if Tarble thinks it's a good idea.”

Tarble smiled at his young wife and then looked at the notes he had in his notebook.

“Still we would need a little more capital to invest. Of course, if Gure believes it is a good idea to invest her dowry in your project... We will gladly do it.”

"Thank you guys... We’ll do what we can with what we have. We’ll manage. I’ll see that everyone receives triple what they invested, I will make sure everything is perfect. Even if I had to cut costs...”

"That will not be necessary."

A voice caught their attention. The group turned to the couple who had just entered accompanied by one of the mansion employees.

"One of your investors, ma'am," the girl announced before retiring.

Bulma watched perplexed at the boy. He and the proud woman who took him by the arm. Her fledgling abdomen caught her attention immediately, although it had been difficult to take her eyes off Goku.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your meeting like this," he said, smiling.

“What are you doing here?”

"Raditz! I didn't know you would come too. I heard from my lawyer that you would be looking for investors. Also, I have come to thank you. You took care of sending me a lawyer from your buffet, right, Count?”

Vegeta was speechless. He nodded after feeling uncomfortable, still stunned by the presence of that boy in his house.

"I did it as a favor to Raditz," he said later, trying to dispel some strange doubt that remained in the air.

"Anyway, it was very nice of you."

"Goku finally got his father's inheritance, it's more money than we need," said Milk, still firmly attached to her husband's arm. “We are very grateful for what you both did for us during the trial and we would like to repay somehow.”

"I don't know what to do with so much money," Goku laughed.

“Well, how much are you willing to invest? So far we are only 4 investors,” said Tarble, noting that everyone there had been silent.

“Whatever you need. The truth is that I don't know much about these things.”

"Neither do I, my father has always handled the money at home," Milk added.

"This..." Bulma stammered anguished. She held her gesture for a moment and looked at the group around her. “I don't know how to thank you all... I promise you that I’ll do my best to return this favor.”

"I just want to see my bank account tripled, as you promised," Raditz replied with a wicked grin on his face.

"And it will be," Vegeta rebuilt.

"Why don't everyone stay for dinner? It's late and you must be hungry. The table is big enough for everyone,” Bulma finished with a smile on her face.

“Cool! I'm starving.”

Vegeta looked at the smiling boy, Black's vivid image. His wife scolded him for his scandalous laughter and the effusiveness of his words. And, although he seemed like a complete idiot without manners, it had been terribly convenient for Bulma that he had presented himself that way.

The dining room table didn’t overflow with food that way for many years. The last time he had received guests had been for his wedding, but they hadn't used the dining room table. They hadn't even entered that room. After finalizing some details with Tarble, they gave him a figure that Goku had no problem delivering. That capital injection would make him the majority partner of their small business, but Bulma had promised to return his initial capital and buy his shares once the company had taken off, so that he and Bulma would be the majority partners again.

Everything seemed to have been routed. And there, sitting at the head of the table, he heard them chatting animatedly. He saw Raditz scold his brother, ashamed of his poor table manners. He heard the women talk about the pregnancy of that girl and Jaco asking the details of the company they were going to found. He heard Bulma laugh and saw her sister withdraw the glass of white wine from her hands when she thought she had drunk too much. And although he felt alien, he was calm.

He finally drank from his cup, tired of his constant worry. Letting everything unfold as it should be, just for a brief moment.

When they finished dessert, Tights stood up and apologized.

"What do you think if the ladies leave to drink a cup of tea?"

“Would be great!” Said Gure enthusiastically.

"All right, we'll let the gentlemen talk," Bulma added, starting to retreat.

When the small group of women withdrew and the housekeepers began to set the table, Vegeta recalled his father's custom after dinner.

"Do you want to drink something at the bar?" He said, feeling it was what was expected of him.

"It was time you said it," Raditz said.

Bulma had led them to the library on the first floor, near her bedroom. She lit the fireplace and waited for the service girls to prepare tea for her guests. Milk seemed much more comfortable than the time she approached to confess that she was pregnant. Now her belly was more prominent, her condition was already visible, although she was only four months pregnant. Gure seemed particularly tender for her condition, it was hard to tell since she had always seen her smiling. However, she looked at her differently than she did with the rest.

"Milk..." Bulma said suddenly. “How do you feel? That is, now that you are pregnant, do you feel different?”

"Not really... From what I've been told, in a couple of months I’ll begin to feel my baby move. But so far, I haven’t felt anything in particular. This pregnancy has been very good with me, surely my baby will be a very good child.”

"Surely it's a boy," said Tights. “They say that the abdomen grows differently when it is a boy, and that pregnancies are calmer.”

"It's true," Gure added. “When my sister Talisa was pregnant with her first child she suffered a lot, she had many nausea and pain. She was tired all the time; she couldn’t wait for her baby to be born.”

"What about your mother? She only had girls,” Bulma asked.

"Well, I think the only complicated pregnancy was mine. She was in isolation since the first trimester.”

Bulma stirred on her seat and suddenly stood up.

"I'll go for something to eat in the kitchen, it won't take long," she apologized before leaving.

She walked slowly through the corridors of the mansion and heard the voices of the gentleman from afar. Curious, she approached, smiling as she realized that they had gone to the room with the largest bar in the entire mansion. Probably at the initiative of Raditz. She was intrigued to know what Vegeta might be talking with them. She had never really seen him socialize that way, and whenever he was alone with Tarble they conversations came directly from business or family matters. Raditz could instead be looser and give himself the opportunity to speak freely of whatever he wanted. Perhaps, what intrigued her most was how he would react to Goku. Most likely, she would find him quiet, but she was pleasantly surprised to hear him raise his voice above the rest.

"A competition? You don't even have the formal training to compete with me.”

"I know, but after seeing all these awards, I got very curious," said Goku's calm voice. “Raditz can teach me, it will only be a friendly competition.”

"I don't do _friendly comepetitions_ ," Vegeta replied.

"Come on, Vegeta. In any case you would only be humiliating my younger brother. What’s the problem?”

"If he doesn't know the rules, it would be a nonsense to compete against him. I don't want an opponent so insultingly easy.”

"Then I’ll train to be a worthy opponent."

Bulma laughed silently across the hall. She leaned against the wall and listened to them arguing. He was shocked, but ended up accepting.

“Okay! But don’t expect that because you're a beginner I'm going to be gentle on you.”

Everything seemed to have fallen in the right place, where it should be. She felt so calm that she gave herself the opportunity to think for a moment about something that made her a little restless, stroked her belly and thought about what it would be. If he was a boy and her calculations were correct, perhaps the day of the birth could be within the term of Vegeta's father's will. If instead, she was a girl as she supposed… She would have to work twice as much to give her the life and opportunities she deserved. The ones she hadn't had herself.

* * *

Looking at his wrists, he remained still in that room. He was in the same place where he had left before he disappeared. He still remembered his face that day, so worried and ungainly that he didn't look like himself. Every day, since that day, he regretted leaving him there. He felt guilty. Perhaps, if he had remained there by his side, he wouldn’t have gone to who knows where to end up buried in an impromptu tomb by the one who had taken his life.

He stroked his wrists; he still had some slight marks made by the handcuffs after several days of being released. He wasn’t made for something like that, so mundane that the idea of being arrested was unbearable.

The penalty for contempt hadn’t been a very large sum, he had paid the fine without problem. All he had left while he waited in his cell was the assurance that Black's brother would be hanged. But when he left to find out that the trial had been declared void, his chest filled with resentment.

However, he now knew something he didn’t know before the trial. The bastard hadn’t been in the city that dire day. Then Black's killer was another, and there was no doubt in his mind. The killer had always been Vegeta. He and that obvious rivalry between the two of them, fueled by the affections of that ordinary girl with whom Black had been obsessed for so long and he had no way of deterring. It seemed that every time he listed her defects, he became more infatuated with having her. And he had even come to think that perhaps, if he had her, he would end up getting tired of her. But the bitch had dared to reject him, again and again. Doing nothing but encourage him to continue forever until she said yes, he would marry her as he had planned.

When they finally knocked on the door as he had expected, he saw him come in and greet him to sit in front of him. He glanced at the announcement he had in his hands and that had been published that day in the newspaper.

Eventually the table would turn in his favor. He had had time to think about what he would do since the law wasn’t on his side. He had thought day and night, without sleep, almost without blinking. In how he could sink them both, and especially him. On how he would forever ruin Vegeta's life once and for all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY! Both stories are at the same chapter. I hope you liked it. I even published this before the Spanish version because there I have to answer the reviews differently. This chapter is a bit quieter than the previous ones but we are reaching the culminating moments of this history. So you can expect something will happen. I hope you have a good weekend!


	35. Chapter XXXV

* * *

**IN YOUR HANDS**

* * *

 

Chapter

-XXXV-

* * *

 

He’d woken up that morning, just as he had done before. With his serious and thoughtful gesture. With his gaze fixed on a target she wasn’t able to see. As if it bothered him how quiet his life had become. Although it hadn't really been as calm as she thought it would be. She had spent full afternoons with him and Tarble. Talking about every detail that would involve their company. Visiting sites to rent to start with the project. They had sent a huge order to the same pair that had supplied the parts for her engine and was surprised about how polite they had been with her on this occasion. Probably her gender didn’t shock them so much when it was accompanied by a juicy check and a possible lasting and prosperous working relationship. They had already chosen a place to work and had hired their first employee, a serene for the factory.

The family lawyer had been responsible for assembling the legal status of the company and preparing contracts for its future employees with the help of their accountant. Everything was going better than expected, they had even got a good price for the rental for the factory. By the third week, the machinery that Bulma had requested and a large list of items to begin production were already loading inside the building.

Last afternoon she had interviewed with Vegeta, at least thirty people, applicants for the administrative positions of the company. Both ended up overwhelmed, tired of listening and talking to people, of reading resumes and corroborating some references. So much had been that they ended up asleep in bed without crossing a word.

Bulma put a hand on his chest when she noticed that he intended to get up. He stopped and looked at her sideways. Serious, expectant of her intentions. She smiled weakly at him and leaned over him. She sat on his lap, dressed in her fine bedding and put her finger on the exact spot where his brow was wrinkled.

"I've noticed you’re worried lately and I really don't want to know what you've been thinking so much about," she began, stroking his eyebrows until she managed to erase that exasperated expression of his. “Surely you think something is going to go wrong, but you don't have to worry anymore. Everything will be fine, and... if something goes wrong, we’ll take care of it as we have done so far... At the moment, I have something in mind that can make you feel better...”

“What is it?” He asked, finally smiling in that cynical way he used to.

"Well, maybe it's better to show it than to say it..."

She crouched over him and kissed him on the neck. She ran her hands over his collarbone and pressed her fingers over the cold skin of his shoulders. She went down his pecs and gently kissed the skin next to his belly button. She felt him stiff from time to time. She looked up and saw his dark gaze fixed on her, as she traveled on the "v" that his muscles formed on his pelvis.

When he was about to ask what she was up to, and although he had been able to imagine it, she took his intimacy in her hands and stimulated it until it hardened in her palm. With her tongue she licked the tip and saw the Count's hands clinging to the sheets. His lips parted, about to release a curse or a groan of pleasure. His blood was pumping hard and she managed to feel it under the skin of his sex. Throbbing vigorously under her touch.

Uninhibited, having shared more encounters than she had imagined, she slowly licked it until he heard him snort and finally say her name as she pronounced his. Almost without air, incredulous and excited.

He closed his eyes when she brought it to her mouth and felt his hand grabbing her hair, without insisting, allowing her to choose the rhythm she wanted. He had had that gesture with her so many times that she had thought a lot about giving it back, sure he might like it. But she would never have expected that she could get him excited that way.

Suddenly he sank on his elbows and pulled her away from his pelvis.

"Enough..." he said in a painful tone and laid her on the bed.

He took one of her legs and laid it on his abdomen. He lifted her bedding over her chest and stroked her, pinching her breasts, bending down to bite his wife's white skin.

By the time Vegeta fell flat on her chest and she gently stroked his black hair, she hadn't stopped for a second to look at the clock that lay on the bedside table. She looked up, still lying on the bed and feeling Vegeta's heavy breathing on her chest. She took a breath, almost horrified. He looked up and watched her surprised.

“Look at the time it is!” she said, clinging tightly to his hair and he made an irritated gesture upon hearing her screams over his ear.

Quickly she stood up, Vegeta stepped aside on the mattress and watched her run to the bathroom and take her toothbrush. He heard her stammer something, it sounded desperate, but he couldn't understand it as she spoke while brushing her teeth. Her forehead was frowned, she looked at herself in the mirror and combed her hair untidily. She ran to the bedroom again. He put on his pants while she deliberated out loud what she would have to wear, in what dress she would look more serious, more worthy of the owner of a company, with which one of all they would take her seriously. But he didn't answer her, he knew she was talking to herself. Really, for him all dresses were the same.

When he finally decided, Vegeta was already fully dressed. Standing and arms crossed next to her, arching an eyebrow. Tired of hearing her whining, he took a dark blue dress with a simple skirt and extended it to her.

"Put any of this, if they are going to take you seriously, they will do it for your attitude, not for what you are wearing.”

"This is perfect!" she said, as if she hadn't heard what he had just said. “Thank you!” she released before turning to the mirror and placing it on her chest, observing her reflection with a gesture of satisfaction.

Vegeta sighed and left her alone in the room. His wife was incorrigible. He walked to the dining room and sat down to wait for her to come down for breakfast. Fortunately, she didn't take long. He watched her eat hurriedly, momentarily forgetting her manners.

"You're going to suffocate if you keep eating that way," he said.

"I have to hurry. I must be in the factory in less than an hour.”

"They can wait for a few minutes."

"What kind of employer would I be if I were late for my first meeting?"

"Why do you want to go alone? It would be better if I accompanied you.”

"Don’t even think about it, you're going to scare them."

"What's wrong with that?"

"I want them to respect me for me, not because they fear my husband. Besides, Broly won't take off at any time if that's what worries you. You can go for me later.”

"Are you giving me permission?" He asked irritably, looking at her for a moment to return to his plate.

“Of course not. Don’t be upset, they are only be interviews.”

"You still don't understand how men think. They’ll see a woman alone and probably try to take advantage of you. You can be too naive.”

"I think I've already dealt with my share of unpleasant men to be able to recognize an exploiter when I see one."

“I really doubt it.”

"You just have to trust me. I want to do this for myself and make them respect me. They will have to do it; I’ll be their boss.”

“We'll see.”

As soon as she finished half of what was on her plate and for her peace of mind, Vegeta had stopped complaining about those meeting she would have in a few minutes. She got up hurriedly and apologized to him. She kissed his cheek and could swear she heard him growl when she did. She went out the front door after gathering her things in a discreet portfolio and Broly followed her closely to the carriage.

When she left, Bulma reviewed some documents she had stored there. Several resumes that her brother-in-law had given her, that had arrived by mail for her and that he did her the favor of selecting, since she had been overloaded with tasks during the last weeks.

She had to work hard if she wanted to have something for her and her family, by Vegeta's next birthday. For some time now, the idea that had driven her to move forward was more alive than ever. But it was no longer the same selfish and petulant desire, it was far from being merely driven by the shame of having nothing. Bulma wanted to give the family that she would probably form, an honest and lasting livelihood with Vegeta. She wanted to continue supporting the employees she was in charge of and the new ones her company had acquired. She needed to reward her friends and family. So much to Tights, as to Gure and Tarble. And although she felt terribly pressured by such responsibility, she was static of happiness.

By the time she finally arrived at the factory she greeted through the window to the serene, her first employee. They left the carriage on the front premises and Bulma came down to make her way to her modest office.

There was no one there, nothing more than a dozen machines and work tables, assembly lines and a strong aroma of oils. A few unopened boxes above the entrance and some bags she had left the day before, before leaving.

On one side of the machinery was a staircase that led to her office, from which most of the factory could be seen through glass. She came up with her portfolio in her hands while Broly took a seat at the bottom. She opened the door and left her portfolio on the light oak table that had been one of the first things she bought. Her office had a very large entrance of natural light through the windows and she had taken several of Vegeta's books there, and others she had bought later.

She sat on the couch and looked at the discreet office. She smiled and looked at the factory through the windows. A new sensation invaded her; a mixture between pride and emotion, with a little nervousness and uncertainty. She sighed, opened her briefcase and looked at some resumes until finally someone knocked on the door. She raised her face and could see a young man with long dark hair behind it.

"Go ahead," she said, clearing her throat trying to sound as serious as possible.

The boy came in and adjusted his straight hair behind his ear. For a moment, Bulma was speechless. He was one of the most handsome gentlemen she had ever seen. He wore a dark suit and a white shirt, with the last button unbuttoned over his neck.

"Good morning, I have an interview for today... But I don't know if I'm in the right place..." he said and Bulma immediately understood his confusion. But even before she could bother, she smiled.

"It's here, I'll be the one to interviewed you. Please come closer, take a seat.”

He seemed slightly confused, but eventually his gesture cleared and he finally smiled at her. He sat down in front of her and looked into her eyes. He had light eyes, an almost gray or light blue tone. A light smile and a little arrogant appearance.

"My name is Bulma, what's yours?" she asked, leafing through the papers in her hands.

"Lapis," he replied and she raised an eyebrow.

"What an unusual name," she laughed.

"Well, if you let me, yours is too."

Bulma laughed once more.

"True, I suppose our parents were somewhat peculiar when it came to choosing names... Let's see... Give me a second... Wait..." she said when she found that gentleman's resume. “Are you the son of Dr. Gero?!”

"Indeed," he replied, smiling, re-accommodating his long straight hair behind his ear. “I guess you are familiar with my father's work.”

"How not to be? He is pioneer in engineering. Your curriculum is impressive, now I understand how you have so much experience being so young. Is incredible. Do you really want to work here? That is, with a curriculum like this I have no doubt that you could get something better. I can't pay you much, we're just starting...”

"I don't care about the salary at all."

"Why do you want to work here?"

“It is not obvious? You will manufacture the first carriage engine. I would like to be part of it. I’m very interested to know how you were able to achieve it. And... I must confess that I felt a bit skeptical at first. I know it has been patented by a woman, now... I assume it was you. I wanted to see it for myself.”

"Yes, I was the one who created it. If you want, I can show you later,” she said proudly.

"It would be a pleasure to see it."

“What I need at the moment is to form a group of engineers. There are still many things that I don’t know and if something went wrong in production, I could use other people who can help me. I need to delegate some tasks, logically I will not be able to be here during the whole process and the staff will need to have someone to turn to if I’m not here, if something goes wrong. In addition, there are other ideas that I’m working on and I would like to know your opinion.”

"Two think better than one, right?"

"That's right," she replied and looked into his eyes until she suddenly began to feel uncomfortable. “Well, when can you start? I don't think you have to go through the selection process... Without a doubt your curriculum is the best and your experience will help me a lot.”

“When you say so. I’m not working on anything especially at the moment.”

“That's perfect. Today I have to interview at least a dozen people. Surely, I will be getting in contact in a few days to have a meeting with the others to settle some details. I'll send the contract by mail so you can read it as soon as possible.”

"I'll be waiting for it," he said finally and stood up.

He extended his hand in front of her and observed her, it was the first gesture they had towards her, of those that only occur between gentlemen. Bulma stood up and shook his hand with pleasure.

"It was nice to meet you."

"The pleasure was mine, Bulma."

"Well, do you want to see it now?"

* * *

The afternoon was almost tortuous. A part of himself told him he was exaggerating, that the mastodon who followed his wife everywhere was more than enough to dissuade anyone from approaching her. That he had to let things flow naturally, out of his strict control. Another part of himself, more foolish and reluctant to accept the idea that Bulma could make herself respected by her own, constantly reminder of how stupid was that he be absent during all those meetings she would have that day. He wondered about the ideas that they could form, when they saw a woman so young and alone in that position, with no one at her side to advise her, that he could see behind them their true intentions. If anyone could take advantage of her in any way, especially in that engine she had taken care of so much during all that time. However, when he was meditating on those murky thoughts, he remembered Black.

It was strange, still dead. The mere idea that he could have left something good in the midst of horror was terrible. That he could have left her the ability to detect people with bad intentions. Maybe he had done it. Perhaps, unintentionally, he had taught her something after all. Or so he wanted to believe. He wanted to believe that idea that she could have developed a sixth sense capable of detecting people as disastrous as he was, to get enough away from them. But it was a thought that was short-lived. It could be that she was blinded by her own enthusiasm...

He had interviewed countless numbers of people since he had taken over the county. It was easy for Vegeta to filter out the undesirable ones. With just a gesture or a word he could anticipate the kind of person in front of him. He would have been very useful to her if she had given him the opportunity. But he couldn’t snatch from her hands the possibility of carrying out this newborn enterprise, of being the visible face and representing alone what she had tried to create with her own hands. It would be almost like cutting off her legs when she tried to learn how to walk.

Then he endured a few hours, thinking about how long each interview could last and hoping that Tarble would have done his job by selecting candidates to work in the factory along with her. But after three hours he got up from the chair he was sitting on, doing nothing but thinking and thinking, and ended up leaving for the factory early.

Upon arrival, he got out of the carriage and heard the combustion of the engine from the outside. He entered without reception and saw her in the distance with two gentlemen. Broly was there, standing a few meters away watching the interaction without saying anything, with the same inexpressive look as always. His countenance was far from that of others; their broad smiles, raised eyebrows wrinkling their foreheads. They had the same expression that he imagined Bulma had that day, when she showed him her engine. He heard them congratulate her and saw them shaking her hand in utter amazement and excitement.

At that moment he felt slightly ridiculous. There, hearing from afar the compliments she received and looking at the way they looked at her as if they had an eminence before them. Bulma was perfectly capable of handling that situation without him, as she had said.

"Vegeta?" She said turning to notice his presence. “You came early.”

"Didn't you say at three?" He lied as he approached.

“Count! What a pleasure to find you here,” said one of the gentlemen who accompanied her. “Since I learned of your wife's invention, I haven't been able to think of anything else,” he approached him and held out his hand. Vegeta shook him immediately and then the other who had not taken long in approaching him.

"Let me tell you that you have a very particular wife, well... I guess you already know that. It’s amazing what she has achieved with so little experience! I can't imagine what she’ll be able to do in a few years. She is a remarkable lady; you must be very proud.”

Suddenly Bulma cleared her throat and the trio turned to see her. She turned off the engine and forced a insincere smile.

"We’ll meet with the team in a couple of days. I’ll let you know the time after taking care of some details. We want to start work as soon as possible.”

"It would be great, I can't wait," said the older one, putting a discreet ocher hat on his bald head.

"It was very nice to meet you, and your husband too, ma'am," said the other before saying goodbye.

Bulma smiled watching them retreat through the front door, whispering over the engine in an excited tone. When the door closed and only the two of them remained, with Broly practically absent from the other side, she turned to her husband and looked into his eyes. Her brow slightly frowned, with some hostility permeated in her gaze. And, although that glance had been ephemeral, Vegeta knew immediately that something bothered her. He saw her turn, arms crossed, walking directly to the metal staircase that led to her office.

“What?” He asked and watched her ignoring him.

In the middle of the journey, she turned to him once more and looked at him the same way.

"You knew I didn't tell you to come at three."

“What’s the problem?” He interrogated her as he chased her to the office.

Bulma entered and he took the door before she could close it in front of his face. Still arms crossed, she turned to face him.

"The Count's wife? Do you realize what that means? The minute you entered through that door I stopped being Bulma to become _The Count's wife_. It is just what I didn’t want!”

"Now you complain about being my wife? A month ago, you would have cut my head off for not asking you to marry.”

“You do not understand it! Of course, how would you understand? You have never lived in the shadow of anyone.”

"I doubt that I can eclipse you, if that's what worries you."

“It's not about that. Vegeta, I need them to recognize me for my work, for the effort I have made to get this through and I want to do it for myself. I understand that you want to help me, but I don't want to be seen as someone's wife, I want to be seen by me. Did you hear what that man said? _"Since I learned about your wife's invention..."_

“You are my wife…”

"I’m more than that!"

“You're overreacting.”

“I'm not! I asked you to come later and you didn't, you came before on purpose even though I explicitly asked you not to. Why did you did it? You wanted to be seen here with me, right?”

"What's wrong with being seen here? Eventually they will see me, you will not be alone here twenty-four hours a day.”

"Eventually... Not the same day they would meet me. I am their boss, Vegeta. Why don't you understand that I want their respect for who I am and not for being the Count's wife?”

"Didn't you realize they knew it before they came here?"

She remained silent, but her face showed that she had many things to say and none came out of her lips.

"There is nothing to do now, fortunately they were the last."

Bulma approached her desk and took her portfolio. She opened it in front of him and began storing the sheets she had laid out on her desk. Something immediately captured the Count's attention and took her left hand and raised it in front of his face. He frowned and looked at the bare finger. A subtle mark lay there; lighter skin and slightly narrower shape than the rest.

"Where’s your ring?" He asked.

"Oh..." she muttered, retreating to the desk. She opened a drawer and took the ring she had stored there to put it back on. “I almost forget it.”

"Why did you take it off?"

"I was operating the machinery before you arrived. It would be dangerous if I use it and get hooked on something, I could lose a finger. Why? What were you thinking? That I would make me look like I were single?”

“Don’t say foolishness.”

"I don't know, you act very suspicious lately. It would be the last straw if you mistrusted me that way.”

He ignored her, kept silent while she collected her things and waited for her by the door. And even though he couldn't really understand what she wanted to say, she was right about the last thing. He was too worried lately, constantly thinking about Zamasu's threats and how he would put them into practice.

"You are too calm," he finally said. “After listening to Zamasu for yourself, and after everything that has happened, you still behave as if everything was fine.”

"I haven't forgotten, I'm not stupid. I know firsthand what Black was capable of, do you think I could underestimate Zamasu? He was his right hand and probably has known him better than me. But not for that reason I’ll live fearing what he’s able to do. In short, I can't live hidden in your mansion. We still have many problems to solve and I will not be locked up for fear of him trying to do something to me. I have a company to build and a lot of work ahead, I won't stop just for him.”

Bulma left the office in front of him. Again, he wasn’t able to tell her anything and simply watched her go with her face up.

By the time they reached the mansion he managed to feel barely calmer, even though Bulma seemed determined to ignore him almost completely. She went to the kitchen, probably in search of that girl who had become her personal companion and didn’t see her again for the rest of the afternoon.

He left for his office, looking for something to do until he heard Tights' voice through the halls of the mansion. Perhaps she had come to continue her research for the novel she was writing and knew that he couldn’t tolerate another day of her indiscreet questions. Then he recalled the proposal of that young man who got rid of that ominous trial and got up to his personal gym, for a long time he didn’t set foot there and his muscles had begun to feel sore, in the absence of proper exercise.

Tights had arrived alone, Jaco was working on the first chapters of her manuscript and she had already begun writing the end of her novel. Bulma and Nathalie accompanied her on the library while having a cup of tea. But her sister didn’t take long to notice the little predisposition Bulma had to continue her interview.

“How was it? Was it romantic? How exactly did he propose it to you?”

"We had an argument, as always. He's so stubborn that I want to...”

"Wait, did you have an argument that night or was it today?"

"We're always arguing, for one thing or another. He never understands anything I want to tell him. He is a…”

"He's a man, Bulma," Nathalie commented with a slight smile as she drank from her cup. Tights laughed, but Bulma seemed equally obfuscated about it.

"True, men have another way of seeing things. We have a different look, sometimes we see things that they don't. Anyway, although he didn’t want to marry for whatever reason he had, he ended up doing it.”

“Whatever! He…” she said as she took her fork, ready to taste a bite of the fruit cake in front of her. She wrinkled her nose with a strange gesture and looked sideways at the finely decorated piece of cake. She sniffed it for a moment and made an arcade. She quickly put the dessert on the table and covered her lips.

“Are you okay?” Asked Nathalie.

A spasm curved her back and a choked sound was lost between her lips. She got up immediately and ran to the nearest bathroom. Nathalie and Tights looked perplexed for a moment and after leaving their cups next to the cake, they rose behind her.

They found her sitting on the toilet, her hands clinging to the cup. Tights reached down and stroked her back.

"Bring her a glass of water," she asked Nathalie, who quickly left the Count's room in a hurry to the kitchen.

Tights stood up and closed the door discreetly. Bulma had sat on the floor and wiped her forehead. She took a towel that her sister had extended and wiped her lips.

"Are you going to tell me that you ate something bad again?"

Bulma looked at her sister sideways. She knew perfectly well that she couldn’t lie to her, that she had already seen through her. She stood up, a little weak from the embarrassing episode she had just starred in.

"It's very possible that I'm pregnant..." she finally confessed and Tights crossed her arms.

"And why doesn't it seem to be good news?" She asked worriedly, with disdain in her gesture.

She went to the sink and let the water run. She gathered a little in her hands and wiped her face. She looked up and found herself in the reflection of the mirror.

"I don't know how Vegeta is going to take it."

“How do you don’t know? He will be happy! If your child is born within the deadlines of his father's will you will not have to worry about anything else.”

“Vegeta and I have been responsible for squandering almost all his money… Yes, if I have a boy, we will keep the county. But if I have a girl... You know what will happen if she is a girl. I have no way of being sure, I can't even know if I'm really pregnant.”

"Anyway, it's not normal. If you are not pregnant then something is wrong, you have to see a doctor.”

"Maybe it's just the nerves."

"You have to tell him; he has the right to know."

"What do you think he’ll do if I tell him that I've been vomiting and that maybe I'm pregnant? Do you think that Vegeta will let me continue working at the rate I have done so far? No, he will not allow it. He has Broly chasing me even inside the mansion. Today he went to look for me very early at the factory.”

"Your husband is somewhat overprotective, I've noticed. But, anyway, I still think it would be a mistake not to say anything.”

"I know exactly what he’ll do when I tell him. First, he will look for a doctor and he will recommend me to rest, perhaps absolute rest. And if he doesn't ask for it now, he'll ask for it in a couple of months. What will I do with the company? If something happens and I’m not there to solve it, what will happen next? What will I do if I have a girl, an impoverished county and a company that I can't take care of? I can't tell him, Tights. At least not yet. It must be a secret, at least until I manage to make the company take off. I owe a lot of money to everyone, to you, to Gure and to Tarble, to Raditz. I owe an exorbitant amount to Milk and Goku. I can't let everything collapse just like that.”

"You can't put your pregnancy at risk for money."

"It's not that... It’s the opposite... I want to provide to the son I could have... You have to promise me you won't say anything."

“Bulma…”

"Promise me ..."

Tights sighed. She looked at the wretched and worried countenance of her young sister and stood still for a moment. Her gesture calmed down.

“With a condition. We will go see a doctor right now. It must not be that of Vegeta's family, we will look for another... But I must know that you are okay, because if it is not a pregnancy... I will not be able to hide it from your husband.”

“Ok, I’ll do it.”

"I'll take care of that right now. I’ll come for you in a little while...”

“Wait… There is something that you haven’t taken into account.”

“What?”

"Broly... He's on the first floor. If you are going to take me somewhere, I doubt I can leave here without him. Vegeta will realize that we are plotting something and it will not take long for him to question me about it if we manage to get out of here without them noticing.”

"Then we'll go with him. He has the obligation to take care of you, not to give your husband a daily part of your activities.”

"But he will if he notices something strange."

"Then we will make him believe that we are doing something normal. We’ll say that you will accompany me to see a doctor, not the other way around. It won't seem strange to your husband.”

“I guess you're right.”

Bulma nodded and said goodbye to her without saying more. Nathalie soon arrived with a glass of water in her hands and judging by her expression there wasn't much she could hide from her either. After a discreet talk, both locked in the bathroom of the main room, Bulma ended up confessing what she had said to Tights. Fortunately for her, she didn’t need to negotiate too much with her to swear to keep her secret.

After a few minutes she helped her choose another dress and put it on, while they waited for Tights to return to see a doctor as soon as possible. She hoped she could find someone discreet enough, and that there were no curious eyes to see her enter a clinic without spreading rumors around the city that her husband wouldn’t like.

While she waited, Nathalie retired and she remained wandering the library, took a book and leafed through it. Her mind was plagued with thoughts, things she had to deal with and she would have preferred that no one knew her secret until she was completely sure. Even if she were, she might not have been able to say it out loud. And although she knew that Tights was right, her motives weighed more than her words.

“What are you reading?” Suddenly asked her husband, who had appeared before the library without her noticing.

Bulma closed the book and left it in place.

"Nothing important, I'm just waiting for Tights."

"Does she still insist on that novel?"

"Yes ..." she replied with a hint of doubt in her tone. “But today we're going out... And don't worry, Broly will go with us...” she looked into his eyes and a lump formed in her throat from what she was about to say. “Tights has been feeling a little sick and asked me to accompany her to see a doctor. She’ll come for me in a moment.”

"She can talk to the family doctor if she wishes."

"That’s okay, she already has one and has already made the appointment," she lied, avoiding his gaze.

Vegeta walked to a small sofa reclined against the window and sat there. He leaned forward, seemed to be going through something similar to what she suffered. His face, despite trying to remain stoic, revealed a sort of uncertainty. He doubted himself and how much he could be suffocating her with his worries. Perhaps, if he pushed her too much, he would end up pulling her away, as he seemed to be doing at that moment.

"You must know that what I do is for your own good. I don't want to leave anything to chance and that Zamas ends up complying with his threats.”

Bulma felt that pain over her throat again. The lie began to overwhelm her more than she expected. Her gesture relaxed, although it reflected only a little of the pain it caused her to hide something so important from Vegeta. She felt a hypocrite for having bothered so much with him after knowing what was going on in that Club and the reasons he had for hiding it. After all, that secret felt tiny compared to the one she kept.

"I know..." she finished telling him in a barely audible tone. “I understand, I just want to work to get this through. If you want to go through the factory, I won't bother... You're right, you're also an investor.”

“Is not that.”

“I know.”

Vegeta stirred on his seat and looked up, looking her straight in the eye.

"I trust you will do well," a slight smile curved his lips and she shivered. He stood up and approached her. “Just be careful.”

Perhaps the guilt that the she felt during Goku's trial didn’t compare to the guilt she felt at that moment in which Vegeta had finally expressed in words he trusted her. And she was about to tell him the truth, she opened her lips with the urgent intention of confessing when a girl broke into the room and called her. Bulma closed her lips. Tights had come for her.

"I have to go," she said before leaving with that girl.

And as she left, she felt her chest burn and guilt crowding on her back. Hosting a new weight that she thought she was rid of. She walked to the front door and heard Broly's footsteps behind her, so closely that he looked like another part of herself.

There wasn't much to tell her sister when she found her again in the carriage. For the first time she was in total silence, totally serious and lost among her own thoughts. Maybe she had managed to spread some of the guilt that she carried on her. She couldn't know since she didn't say a word until they got to that doctor's office.

So far it was that she couldn’t even recognize that part of the city and wondered how she would have gotten that address.

Together, they waited in the waiting room for a few minutes until they finally announced that it would be their turn to pass. Broly had stayed at the front door, waiting for them to return.

Bulma entered the office and shook the hand of the young doctor who would attend them and was a little confused to learn that it wasn’t Tights who would attend that day.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to lie to your secretary, but this is something we want to be discreet about. I hope I can understand,” Tights told him.

"Of course, many women come here for discretion... What is the problem that brings you here?"

"My sister... she has been feeling somewhat sick lately. We would like you to do a checkup on her.”

"Bulma, right? What has been bothering you?”

* * *

When they left there, again in the carriage, they were both completely silent. Tights even looked as sorry as her sister. What they had heard there had been unheard of, like a bunch of imposed foolishness that couldn’t be real. Bulma hugged her abdomen and thought of every word she had been told, in every ridiculous restriction that would come from being pregnant.

"Well..." Tights said suddenly. “He didn’t confirm it, it’s too soon to know. The symptoms and delay may be due to something else.”

"But if not, as we suppose... I’ll have to lock myself in the mansion for months... They won't even let me read. I will not be able to do anything, absolutely nothing.”

"He's a doctor, I'm sure he knows what he’s doing. He has to know, right?”

"I can't live locked up, isolated from everything until I give birth. It’s crazy!”

"It is your duty, if you will be a mother you will have to do it..." Tights said, although her tone didn’t sound entirely convinced.

"We can't confirm it. It's all I'll admit, we'll have to wait a little longer to know.”

"I hope that time will be enough to continue this... In a few months you won't be able to hide it..."

"That just means I’ll have to work twice as much as I do now."

She stroked her belly again. Nothing she had heard deterred the idea of continuing to the end. And for a moment, she believed that even pregnant she would have to continue. Flatly refuse the confinement at the expense of what Vegeta could tell her about it. Perhaps at the cost of everything she had obtained. Because she didn't really care so much anymore, it no longer seemed so difficult to have to tolerate her own lie. If in the end she could secure a future for her child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have much to say today, I just have to tell you that this is almost ending. Maybe 2 or 3 chapters left! I'm so happy :)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first fic written in English, and I must say before you kill me that I do not speak English. My native language is Spanish. This has been a great effort for me, I hope you correct me when I'm wrong and I hope you like this story too. This fic is almost endind and at the time I have 26 chapters to translate. Thank you for reading!


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